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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25778710">Polaroids and Promises</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilevixen/pseuds/fragilevixen'>fragilevixen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In the City that Never Sleeps [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Law &amp; Order: SVU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Case Fic, Gen, Indroduction of a new character, Law Enforcement, Major Original Character(s), Mystery, Other, Police Procedural, Preparing for a return, Psychological Trauma, Remembering Someone, Series continual, Thriller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:28:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25778710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilevixen/pseuds/fragilevixen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Special Victims Unit has undergone an enormous amount of changes in the past six months, to the point that they are drastically undermanned—until a transfer from the 13th precinct brings new life, and a little chaos, to the team. Will her addition prove to be a permanent shift or a flash in the pan?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amanda Rollins &amp; Odafin "Fin" Tutuola, Amanda Rollins &amp; Original Female Character(s), Olivia Benson &amp; Odafin "Fin" Tutuola, Olivia Benson &amp; Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In the City that Never Sleeps [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Calm Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is an ongoing series, this is the first case in it. I hope you’ll join me on this journey.</p><p>Yes, Elliot Stabler is tagged. He is not explicitly mentioned, by name, but he is in these chapters. He is pivotal. He is returning.</p><p>The relationships are tricky because the romance doesn't start right off the back. Please, give this Original Character a chance. I have so much more developed for her and the team.</p><p>Mazel Tov translates to good luck in Yiddish.<br/>Scherzo is Italian for joke.</p><p>Warning: Chapters may contain descriptions of violence, sexual assault, assault on a minor, and the death associated—depictions are not meant to trigger or otherwise damage readers. Proceed with caution.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Faithless</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Is he that says farewell when</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The road darkens.</em>
</p><p>-JRR Tolkien</p><p> </p><p>Tuesday, November 5<sup>th</sup> 2019, 10:30 PM</p><p>Imagine, Terrace Drive, New York, NY</p><p> </p><p>                “Could you be any more of a fucking tourist, Jackie?” Mack held his pace a couple of feet behind a leggy blond with her hair in a messy bun, a messenger bag wrapped across her chest as she did a spin across the mosaic, beaming at him. “I’m not taking a picture of you in the dark.”</p><p>                “I don’t need one, you bum,” Jackie had both feet pressed perfectly at the space just below the word ‘Imagine’ as it scrawled into the black and white, her smile radiant in the poorly lit walkway, the dwindling sounds of traffic just around the corner. “Lennon would’ve been proud of something so simple and beautiful.”</p><p>                They had been walking for over three hours and Mack’s patience was wearing thin while Jackie’s thirst to push his buttons only increased. Mack managed to gaze at her, despite the growing urge to toss her into a nearby trash bin to snap her back to reality. <em>The things we do for love. </em>He kept thinking it as he ran a couple of fingers through his mussed, mousy brown, curly hair and stared at the gaps in the pavement. The sentiment was unreal as he peeked at the massively out of his league creature in front of him, her shimmering blue eyes standing out beneath the amber glow of the high lamppost that barely illuminated their pathway—the flecks of gold sticking out in her more dishwater blond locks. She caught a second wandering eye and winked at him, blowing a kiss as she pulled her cell phone from her blue jeans.</p><p>                “You’re corny and sappy,” Mack plopped onto a nearby bench and sighed as his backpack crunched against the backrest while his girlfriend did a spin on the tiles. “Why in the holy hell am I dating you?”</p><p>                “Keep it up and I’ll start singing any and every Beatles song that I can remember the words to, jerk face,” Jackie had her cell between both palms, aimed at the circular display with the flash already prepped as she took snaps of the spot with and without her feet in the frame. “It’s taken three years to make our way here—we’ve been in nearly every part of Central Park but this one. Don’t spoil it for me.”</p><p>                “You know, sometimes, you’re worse than a six-year-old,” Mack was half-ignoring her as the blue light of his cell phone lit up his face while he flipped through social media updates while a line of waddling pigeons cooed on a nearby path. “Hurry up…you wanted snacks before we go home, didn’t you?”</p><p>                “Yeah, yeah,” Jackie was precariously posturing herself along a fence, hoping to get a full view shot of the circular mosaic work that she was marveling over. “Just let me get a better shot of it…then we’ll go.”</p><p>                “If you fall and hurt yourself, you better not go telling your mom about it so she’ll yell at me and blame me for you breaking whatever bone you’re about to break,” Mack looked up as he heard a snapping of a branch, watching her grasp onto it as she leaned along a post to take the photo. “I’m not kidding, Jackie.”</p><p>                “I’m agile—like a tiger,” Jackie wasn’t the least bit amusing but she thought she was as she extended both arms out, teetering from side to side as she attempted to balance on one foot like a trained acrobat. “I’ve got thi—fuck!”</p><p>                The thicket of bushes caught her fall but the sound of her screeching had Mack on his feet in a half of a second as the bright strobe of her camera flash went off, marking the arch of her arm as she moved. He wanted to feel bad for her but cockiness had brought her here and he was relishing in the readied retort as he pulled the branches back. She landed awkwardly, ripping her tee-shirt in two places, and sunk into an unsettled section of mud, chest heaving as droplets of the day’s rain landed on her face.  He found her feet still atop the fence, socks caught on a section of thorns from the squatty rose bushes she had successfully destroyed, and winced at the sight of her with her arms splayed out, her head narrowly missing a rock.</p><p>                “You…idiot,” Mack leaned against the fence, bracing his knees against the post as he reached for her. “Come on, let me help.”</p><p>                “Mack,” Jackie had gone from mildly embarrassed to terrified as she propped herself up in the soggy pile of dirt and grime she had fallen into. “…What is that?”</p><p>                “You know what mud is, Jackie, grab my hand and I’ll pull you up,” Mack rolled his eyes at the sensitivity of his girlfriend, waving his palm at her, dangling his digits at her as his backpack rattled against his spine. “You’re going to make my backpack knock me off balance if you don’t hurry your ass up.”</p><p>                “I don’t think this is mud, Mack,” Jackie held her hands out, her grip aimed up and lax as the crimson color of the material all over her caught the dull shine of the lamp above.</p><p>                “Are you hurt?” Mack felt the pang of guilt swallowing him up as he continued to reach for her while she shook with fear.</p><p>                Jackie shook her head, slowly turning her chin toward the mess of upturned, thin stumps to her left, where they resided on something she’d only seen in a horror film. “It’s not mine—call 9-1-1.”</p><p>                Mack took a step back and glanced down, at the spot in the dirt that Jackie had landed on, where a second set of significantly smaller feet were posed haphazardly in the topsoil. They were bare, absent of color aside from a bluish tint and bruising, and the body they were attached to was carefully concealed beneath a sizeable, thorny bush aside from a satchel, filled to the hilt with blood-soaked clothing. Jackie had landed on the edge of the bag and pushed the materials free, spreading the blood across her arms, back, and consequently, the flower bed. Mack made eye contact with his girlfriend as she held in a scream, swallowing her fear as the emotions manifested in a trail of tears down her pale cheeks. His screen lit up his face as he dialed and pressed it against his cheek, listening to the ringing while time seemingly stood still.</p><p>                “Baby, don’t look,” Mack’s eyes were glued to his girlfriend but a piece of him was breaking as the first set of 9-1-1 prompts began in front of him, helplessly unable to pull her from the spot. “Everything is going to be okay.”</p><p>                “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher’s alert, concise voice in his ears nearly had Mack crying right along with Jackie as he stood still and listened.</p><p>                “My girlfriend and I are at the John Lennon Memorial in Central Park—she fell over the barrier into the bushes,” Mack was trying to be calm even though he could hear her typing in the background as he talked.</p><p>                “Honey, can you give me your name so I can help you better? Is your girlfriend hurt? What’s her name?” The dispatcher was just doing her job but he was already frustrated as he took a breath and glanced down at the little body next to his girlfriend, at the cascade of matted hair that shielded her face from the elements.</p><p>                “My name is Mack. My girlfriend is Jackie—she’s not hurt but,” Mack felt dinner rising into his throat as he tried not to gag over the utterance. “I think we found a body.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>25 minutes later-</p><p> </p><p>                It didn’t take long for the entire John Lennon Memorial to become inundated by red and blue flashing lights, yellow tape, and a plethora of cops dressed in their uniformed blues. The chatter was loud and the traffic was beginning to pick up as the news vans began to show up with the word traveling that another body had been discovered in Central Park. The tight-lipped police officers joined three medics as they meticulously pulled Jackie from the saturated ground, unwilling to turn her in the direction of the onslaught of media gathering on the other side of the barricade. Mack’s inability to assist was weighing on him as he hugged himself, eyes locked on Jackie as he could hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He blinked as a flashing light crossed into his peripheral, pulling his focus as a coroner’s van pulled up next to the ambulance and kept their slower strobes as their team slid out of the front.</p><p>                “Miss Reynolds, are you sure you’re not hurt?” One of the medics managed to cut through the fog enough to snap Jackie to attention, away from the little body still lying in the bushes.</p><p>                “I’m okay—I just want to change clothes,” Jackie looked at the ground, at her feet, prolonging contact with the only part of her that didn’t have a drop of blood on it.</p><p>                Mack couldn’t stay quiet as he witnessed the love of his life trembling like a leaf with someone else’s blood smeared across her, seeping into the seams of each article of clothing. “I have a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt in my bag…I’m assuming the cops need the clothes she’s wearing?”</p><p>                 The medic nodded gently and gestured toward the FDNY labeled ambulance, her voice full of understanding and gentleness despite the growing chaos around them. “Let’s get you both taken to the station—I’ll make sure that you’re okay in the back on the way there.”</p><p>                Jackie and Mack followed her, doing their best not to turn their attention back to the grisly scene as it became significantly more visible from a different pathway. “I just want to go home.”</p><p>                “Hey, Wilson, we might have a problem,” Officer Jones from Violent Crimes was the closest to the body as his gloved fingers slid away from the dirty, dark brown hair from the face of their victim, the color from his face all but draining away.</p><p>                Detective Wilson turned, advanced over the top of the knee-high fencing, and crouched next to him, scrutinizing the same scene before him as the ligature marks stood out like a sore thumb around the young girl’s neck. “Yeah, we do…we need to pull Special Victims in on this.”</p><p>                “Think this is number four? Madeline King?” Jones wanted to shout as he made eye contact with his partner, the rage building over the implication of it.</p><p>                “Only one way to find out,” Wilson was calmer and more calculated about the ordeal as he gestured toward the messenger bag with the evidence marker across the top. “You know his signature…”</p><p>                Jones didn’t want to find it as he lifted the flap of the evidence bag with his index, gathering only enough of the leather material to expose the contents to the air. The tinny odor wafted free as he disturbed the interior and pushed back the unzipped liner. His stomach sank as the white, plastic corner of what he was looking for was sticking out like a flag, ushering his free hand to pull it free. Confirmation had been met in the worst way as he held a Polaroid of a sobbing little brunette, with her arms tied above her head, with the time of 6:30 PM written in sharpie along the bottom. His shoulders slumped and his eyes closed as he passed it, with reticence, to Wilson before calling it in.</p><p>                “This is Officer Matt Jones, VCU, we’re going to need Special Victims at the John Lennon Memorial in Central Park,” Jones clicked over his walkie as another siren wailed in the distance.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Wednesday, November 6<sup>th</sup> 2019, 4:45 AM</p><p>140 W 55<sup>th</sup> St #15, New York, NY</p><p> </p><p>                The smell of paint still radiated through the room along with the gentle odor of recently fallen rain from one of the open doors to the terrace.  Boxes were everywhere, gathered along the canvas drapery in the dark of the remnants of the night as the sun stayed behind the horizon to the east. The partially dismantled bed with the box spring and mattress in the middle of the room was the only real indication of any living creature within the walls of the penthouse unit of the pre-war, eleven-story building. Her foot popped free from the tangle of blankets and sheets followed by the tips of her fingers as she pushed the screen of her cell phone on the mattress until the room lit up in a subtle, yellowed glow. It was quiet aside from the hum of electronics and the start of the morning traffic on the street, roughly a hundred feet below.</p><p>                “Shit,” She groaned and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling toward the dangling, multi-layered light fixture that almost didn’t fit the motif of the room, sighing into the air as the cooing of pigeons started again. “You little…mother…fuckers.”</p><p>                She groped along the floor until the switch of the lamp gathered between her fingers just enough to illuminate the room with brighter-than-necessary, stark white light. Her long hair tangled around her digits as she scooted back to evade the flood of luminescence, the rude awakening less than pleasant as she pulled the pillow back and hurled it toward the window, scaring off the pigeons. Part of her wanted to lie back down and squeeze the last moments of life from an available forty minutes of sleep before the alarm would go off but her eyes simply blinked at the reflection in the glass; at the woman embarking on more change than she had experienced in a long time. She wanted to believe it was for a reason other than pushing her further off a cliff but, somehow, she didn’t think she was that lucky as she glanced at the shield sitting on a chair just feet away.</p><p>                The cell phone next to her thigh chimed, searing her mental process with one of those annoying ringtones that she had assigned to the precinct, shattering the quiet of her bedroom.</p><p>                “This is Elora?” Elora cleared her throat and slid her fingers through her hair, pushing her wavy locks away from her forehead as she put both feet on the floor.</p><p>                “Elle, hey, it’s Wyatt…I didn’t wake you, did I?” His voice was calm but inspired a frustration in Elora as she reached for a fresh set of clothes from the top of a hamper.</p><p>                “I was already up,” Elora pulled on a pair of socks and swapped the underwear she was wearing, discarding the dirty pair into the nearly empty bin next to the one full of wrinkly garments. “What do you want, Wyatt? You know I don’t work at the one three, anymore, right?”</p><p>                “The Lieutenant asked me to call you,” Wyatt was stammering, much to Elora’s annoyance as she yanked on a pair of slacks, zipping them up after switching the call to speaker. “You have a few things that you need to pick up—“</p><p>                “Are you doing favors for the Lieutenant now?” Elora snickered as she propped the cellular against a nearby dresser to pull on a bra, doing her best not to make any excess noise as she snapped it across her back by accident. “You can let <em>your</em> Lieutenant know that I’ll be on my way in a few to pick up whatever I left behind. I know it must really suck for him to pick up the phone himself.”</p><p>                “Come on, Caruso, don’t do that,” Detective Wyatt Avery was never one of her worries at the precinct but her disdain was brewing as she did a smell check on a maroon, three-quarter sleeve, V-neck shirt before pulling it over her head. “It’s not like I had the chance to say goodbye.”</p><p>                Elora let out a sigh and picked up the phone, holding it just a few inches from her face as she rubbed her temples. “I’ll be there after I get some coffee.”</p><p>                With a click, the call ended and she was left to stand in the middle of an unfinished bedroom that severely lacked drapery as the sun began to peek through the crevices of nearby high-rise buildings. What was once a pet project had turned into the undertaking of a lifetime; often reflective of sheer embarrassment for a home that looked more like a disaster area than a livable residence. Elora had been in the penthouse for nearly six months but nothing had moved since her professional life had taken a dump on her personal one. She had accomplished much of the plan—finished the kitchen, the dining area, and adjusted the spaces to reflect her lifestyle. The original floor plan was meant for a four-bedroom, three-bathroom but her renovations reduced it to two bedrooms, an office, two full-size bathrooms, and a half bath. It was more open, comfortable, and less restrictive than it had been in years—and felt nothing like the way it was when her grandmother lived there. The entire place needed so much more work, among other things.</p><p>                Unpacking her life would be a start.</p><p>                Elora snagged her identification, clipped in her shield, and pulled on a jacket as she gathered a modest, small-sized shoulder bag to pick up her things at the thirteen. “Here goes nothing.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>5:25 AM</p><p>Thirteenth Precinct</p><p>Midtown, Manhattan, NY, NY</p><p> </p><p>                Elora finished a short walk from Think Coffee, carrying a steaming caramel latte as she made her final approach toward the poorly lit front entrance to the thirteenth precinct where she had spent the past five years of her life. It had been raining again since she left her apartment and the sidewalk had the sheen of dark, slick moisture that accumulated in the divots where the concrete had weakened and cracked. She had already contemplated ditching the last of her personal effects but letting her former Lieutenant have the last laugh was the furthest thing from her mind as she pulled the glass door open, smiling at the front desk girl. It already felt foreign as the distinct aroma of mildew, stale coffee, and far too much male ego hit her like a ton of bricks less than five feet inside of the entrance.</p><p>                “Back again?” Cici was one of those rookies that was destined for desk duty as she flashed a toothy grin from behind the desk, a stack of magazines just inches from her right hand. “Or do they feel like giving you the business end of a baton today to really <em>drive</em> a point home?”</p><p>                “Avery said I have crap to retrieve and you know how they are around here,” Elora rolled her eyes and leaned against the security barrier, winking in Cici’s direction before continuing down the hall.</p><p>                Cici leaned across the desk to shout down toward her, boosting Elora’s ego one last time. “It’s not going to be the same around here without you!”</p><p>                The thirteen needed a massive renovation but she had spent just under four of the over nine years of police work within these walls. Elora went up a flight of stairs and heard the chorus of chatter from around the corner as she moved past the portioned, glassed-in section where the doors were shoved open, signage for the Violent Crimes Unit just above the door in blue lettering. The Lieutenant’s door was closed but his blinds were open and his stare burned through her as she crossed the tile, her boots tapping in a soft, tentative pattern until the singular body at a desk realized she was there. His chin tilted, exposing the dark, intensely brown eyes with glints of green to her field of vision, framed beneath unusually long lashes. His smile crept in and made a pronounced, strong jaw even more obvious as he tossed the paperwork onto the center of his desk and leaned back, running a couple of fingers through his raven hair.</p><p>                “Was beginning to think you weren’t going to show, Elle,” He pivoted in the chair until it squeaked beneath his ass, the smirk still residing at the corners of his lips.</p><p>                “Can’t have you pilfering through my stuff, now, can I?” Elora took a necessary sip of her hot drink and shifted her weight as she awkwardly kept eye contact with him. “Thanks for holding onto it, Wyatt—I wouldn’t have guessed anyone around here was looking out for me.”</p><p>                Wyatt stood and went to a row of small lockers, stopping in front of the only one missing a lock where he had placed a box meant for a pair of boots. “I meant it when I said I always had your back, Elle. You not being here will never change that.”</p><p>                Elora didn’t think she had left enough behind to fill a box but the contents weren’t exactly modest as Wyatt brought it over and folded it shut as he handed it off to her. There was a stillness in the exchange, complete with the cringe-worthy silence that was blossoming as she could feel his eyes burrowing a hole straight through her already battered soul. Elora coughed and took a step back, cutting a little bit of the tension and the perplexing air between them. Wyatt did his own uncoordinated maneuvering as he snatched his coffee from the top of the desk and nearly splashed himself with it.</p><p>                “I didn’t realize I had so much crap,” Elora noted the weight of the box across her arm as she listened to the bulk of it rattling around like her keys across the table, eyes glancing at the clock ticking away on the wall. “I should probably get going.”</p><p>                Wyatt hesitated, gnawing on his bottom lip while he held onto his half-full coffee in his right hand, watching her nearly get to the door before finally opening his mouth again. “What’s that phrase you used to say in Yiddish?”</p><p>                “What phrase? I used to say a lot of them,” Elora was parallel to her former Lieutenant but the amusement on her face was more than evident as she turned around and looked at Wyatt as he met her in the doorway. “Why are you stalling me?”</p><p>                “I’m not,” Wyatt sipped the ailing coffee and made a face as the lukewarm liquid went down his throat. “How do you say good luck?”</p><p>                “Oh Jesus,” Elora stifled a laugh and bit down on the center of her lip, glancing down at the floor as she inhaled a breath. “<em>Mazel Tov</em>. Are you done?”</p><p>                “Okay, okay, okay. <em>Mazel Tov</em>, Elle,” Wyatt was proud of himself as he was already going for his desk, a grin residing on his lips as he cocked his head to look at her another time. “Not that you ever really needed it.”</p><p>                Elora let the words sink in, aware of their sincerity as she left the thirteenth precinct and carried the box of stray items onto the sidewalks of a city that had begun to come alive in the wee hours. The sewer grates steamed as the drizzle bounced along the ground, adding another layer to the looming fog that hovered between each building in spite of the rising sun behind the clouds that was pushing daylight through the gloom. Elora turned a corner and followed a rush of people on their way to a new destination, crossing the street with a bit of speed as a row of impatient cabs began a chorus of honking. The cabs and the resounding blaring of their horns only inspired the retorts of disapproving cussing from at least half of the pedestrians, while the other continued in a forward motion…destinations unknown.</p><p>
  <em>                Ah, New York.</em>
</p><p>                Elora couldn’t help thinking to herself as the aroma of fresh, baked goods mingled with the leftover perfume of car exhaust, trash, and precipitation. She wouldn’t have recommended inhaling deep breaths of street air but the bouquet was something that she had, simply, gotten used to. New York was an acquired taste and it took a certain kind of person to handle the constant movement that it inspired, in every meaning of the word. Elora tossed her empty coffee cup into a nearby bin and pulled her hood up as the skies opened, pouring another onslaught of rain that stung at the skin with every little drop. This was not how her first day was supposed to start and she wasn’t going to walk into a new precinct soaked to the bone with a box of water-logged belongings.</p><p>                There wasn’t a choice but to hail a taxi.</p><p>                “Raining cats and dogs out there,” He had a smile on his face and a kind demeanor as he upped the heat just for her, glancing back as she pulled the door shut. “Where to?”</p><p>                “Can you get me over to the sixteenth precinct?” Elora wiped the rainwater from the top of the box and nodded while giving him a resigned smile to return his kind gesture.</p><p>                “You betcha, Miss,” His salt and pepper hair matched his phrasing as he reminded her of every sweet, old man she had ever met as they drove along, collecting the fare. “Not many people ask me to take them to the police station…I don’t want to pry but, are you okay?”</p><p>                “It’s not like that but you’re too kind to ask,” Elora wanted to roll her eyes at realizing that she must’ve looked like a soggy little damsel in distress to him as she straightened out her spine and let out a sigh. “I don’t suppose you drive around a lot of cops all that often?”</p><p>                Aside from the sloshing of water beneath the tires and the exhaust humming, the silence filled the cabin for a long, uncomfortable moment as he turned the corner toward a final left. Elora glanced out the window, at the rise and fall of buildings, and at the expanse of high arches and windows that had stood the test of time. Her thumb gathered along the gap in the cardboard, pushing along a deviation in the corrugation until the sound thudded beneath her print. The rain streaked down the window like tears down her cheeks as she blinked slowly and caught a blink of a traffic signal in her peripheral.</p><p>                Her driver clearing his throat pulled her from the lull with a snap as she looked forward and fidgeted while he smiled into the rearview. “I haven’t really thought about my passengers before but if all of them are as polite as you—well, consider me sold.”</p><p>                Elora smirked and felt her necklace tugging against stray strands of hair as she tugged the charm into place, nodding gently as she noticed the sidewalk they had pulled up to. “I don’t know about all of that but I can tell you that you’ll always get a smile and a thank you out of me.”</p><p>                The morning hadn’t been a total loss as she handed him a twenty, told him to keep the change, and pressed her heel against a drenched, slanted sidewalk just below the precinct’s archway. Elora felt soggy from the knees down and her poorly constructed bun was looking fuzzier by the second as the downdraft swept past her back, pushing the coat against her legs. There was a chill in the air and she could smell the wind taking a turn as she glanced up at darkening clouds overhead. It was an omen but she didn’t know if it was a good one, or a bad one, this time. Not that she could dwell on the options as her digits met the lever, tugging it until she could feel the warmth from inside radiating against her face.</p><p>                “Let me get that for you,” The weight lifted away from her wrist as the soft, yet distinctive Italian accent stood to her right as she turned her head to see blue eyes framed beneath slicked back, graying blonde hair.</p><p>                Elora adjusted her grip on the box and nodded as his polished, tailored, three-piece suit was giving her vibes of every male attorney in Manhattan, complete with the wide smile that looked like nothing but trouble. “Thank you—I was close to dropping this.”</p><p>                “No problem,” He was in a hurry but he was being helpful as he slowed his pace to match hers, the naturally inquisitive nature peeking out as he tried to visually absorb any hint as she approached the backlit, protected front area. “Hey, who are you here to see?”</p><p>                “Captain Benson with Special Victims,” Elora had her hand on the edge of the counter as she tilted her head, making eye contact with him quizzically. “Why?”</p><p>                “Looks like we’re going to the same place. I’ll show her where to go,” He was holding out his hand with expectancy in spite of the awkward maneuvering that it was going to take to return the gesture. “ADA Dominick Carisi but everyone calls me Sonny…and you are Officer?”</p><p>                “Sonny, huh?” Elora scoffed, smiling just enough as she shook his hand while the box teetered on her other arm. “<em>Detective</em> Elora Caruso, but everyone calls me Elle. You must be why there’s a hole in the department.”</p><p>                “Wisecracking three seconds after meeting me?” Carisi was gesturing for her to follow down a hallway toward the elevator, the freshly lit buttons just out of view. “You’ll fit in just fine.”</p><p>                “You’re Italian; you can handle a little <em>scherzo</em>,” Elora flexed the familial muscle, already hearing her grandmother chanting the word in her head as she earned a double-take from Carisi.</p><p>                Carisi let out a chuckle and the sound came out as though he needed it like tension had been residing deep within his gut as they passed through the doors and began an ascent to the fourth floor. “Are you fluent?”</p><p>                “Not enough to hold a legitimate conversation but more than sufficient to know when my Nan was trying to tell my mom about where she hid every one of my presents at Christmas,” Elora shrugged her shoulders and made a face, earning another hushed snicker from Carisi as they made an exit toward a remodeled archway with sectioned off, modern desks and accolades everywhere, absent of other officers. “I must be—early.”</p><p>                “No, believe me, you’re not early,” Carisi’s tone went grave as he spotted a pot of coffee brewing in the corner, barely halfway through a drip. “Not today, anyway…”</p><p>                The sound of that sentence was foreboding and the earlier formation of clouds was beginning to shape into a harbinger of unfavorable luck as Elora wondered what she had just walked into. The brightness inside of the squad room was stark compared to the dreary darkness from outside as Elora caught a glimpse of the rain against the pane. Carisi walked up to the barely open door next to a wall of windows, the blinds drawn with the lights glowing from inside. He peeked in and the sound of papers rustling across the surface of a desk proceeded as the attention of Captain Benson was obtained. Elora did the slowest of spins in the spot she stood, glancing at the stairs in the corner and briefly at Carisi as he crossed the room to start making a cup of coffee. Elora had her suspicions that he wasn’t making it for his own benefit.</p><p>                It was to provide a boost to everyone that hadn’t left the building.</p><p>                “The coffee isn’t the best but do you need a cup?” Carisi turned around, carafe in one hand, creamer in the other, eyebrows aimed toward the ceiling. “Caffeine is really the only way to get through a morning sometimes.”</p><p>                “I just downed a twenty-ounce on the way in, I’m solid for a while,” Elora knew she probably looked like a skittish rookie on her first day as she shifted her weight and felt her nostrils flare. “Thank you, though.”</p><p>                “Are you Detective Caruso?” The voice came from behind Elora, ragged, sleep-deprived, and it snagged at her consciousness as she spun around to see a woman around the same height as her, with dark hair and expressive eyes, leaning against the door jamb to the office that Carisi had just peeked into.</p><p>                Elora’s line of sight unintentionally dropped to the tightly wound fist, complete with the white knuckles bared as she nodded and regained a shred of visual contact with the woman before her. “Yes…are you Captain Benson?”</p><p>                “The very same,” Benson had an air of cloistered frustration brewing beneath the layers of her wrinkled pantsuit, the evidence of a coffee spillage visible at the top of her button-down as she turned her attention to Carisi for a moment. “Carisi, will you do me a favor while I have a short conversation with Detective Caruso? Go see who isn’t awake in the cribs?”</p><p>                “On it,” Carisi grimaced behind a cup of coffee as he ascended the stairs, disappearing around a corner.</p><p>                “You don’t have to call me that,” Elora followed Benson into her office, into the reality of why her new boss hadn’t been sleeping as the photos were already plastered across every available surface, mapped carefully. “My name is Elora—and by habit, I picked up <em>Elle</em> as a nickname. It’s just stuck.”</p><p>                “I haven’t called anyone a variation of that nickname in a long time,” Benson pushed the door closed, lingering with her back to Elora as she inhaled a deep breath and pressed her index to the bridge of her nose before gesturing to one of the chairs. “I’m not going to sugarcoat the problematic timing of your arrival but you walked into twenty-six hours of hell and you haven’t had field time in how long?”</p><p>                Elora sank into a chair as Benson pulled her rolling seat back into place, signaling a mutual observance that seemed to add to the tension in the air. “I haven’t been in the field for eighteen months, but you already knew that judging by the look on your face.”</p><p>                “Detective Caruso, I don’t know what kind of introduction they gave you at the thirteenth precinct to what we do here but a dry streak of desk duty doesn’t set you up for a lot of immediate success,” Benson was undeniably tough and it was more than fitting for her position as Elora propped the remnants of her former work life against the top of her thighs, freeing her hands.</p><p>                “I’m going to stop you right there, Captain Benson,” Elora kept her words firm yet polite as her spine went rigid and she held her chin up, her eyes locked onto the distrusting woman in front of her as she dug deeper than she had wanted during introductions. “I don’t know how intensely you look at the files of your transfers but mine will look like an unfinished crossword puzzle. It’s heavily redacted and it’s that way for a reason.”</p><p>                “Go on,” Benson found herself subtly impressed at the tenacity of splitting open a healed wound as she watched Elora’s eyes involuntarily glass over.</p><p>                “Part of my file is sealed because of the circumstances that surround a pre-employment <em>situation</em>,” Elora squeezed her fingers around the armrest until her thumb throbbed and blinked away the emotion. “It probably should have been reported, but one of the new officers in the squad was looking to score some points with the Lieutenant and conned one of the archivists into unsealing the details of that incident—to the point that I was quietly pulled from multiple years in the field. My hard-earned promotions from third to first grade look like a complete joke.”</p><p>                Benson’s curiosity was burning as was her desire to assure the safety of her dwindling, high-pressure unit as she leaned against the crook of her palm while her elbow pushed into the cushion of the armrest. “I’m not going to force you to tell me but knowing the details of what happened could make your probationary period here a lot less intense and give me insight into how you work in the field. The underlying cause would also help me understand on a personal level.”</p><p>                “I can’t,” Elora blurted it out and took a giant step backward after making small jumps forward as she pushed her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “I don’t talk about it. I know that there’s a large chance that it could affect the ability for you to trust in me, but I’m asking that you let me earn it.”</p><p>                Benson folded her hands across her lap, nodding as the paperwork in front of her began to call out to her, becoming significantly more important than the details of a new Detective’s possible, prior transgressions. “Let’s get you a locker and a desk…we have a lot to do and the clock is ticking.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Breaking the Hourglass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elora meets the rest of her team and is thrown into the mix of a case with an hourglass expiring and few suspects to name. Can her expertise bring home a fifth victim before time runs out?</p><p>“Time is passing: not leaden stepping, but springing on winged feet, quicksilver slipping by.” – Richard L Ratliff</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Chapters may contain descriptions of violence, sexual assault, assault on a minor, and the death associated—depictions are not meant to trigger or otherwise damage readers. Proceed with caution.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Man alone measures time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Man alone chimes the hour.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And, because of this, man alone suffers</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A paralyzing fear that no other creature endures.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>A fear of time running out.</em>
</p><p>-Mitch Albom (from the Time Keeper)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>                “We’ll get you set up with a locker in a bit and give you a tour when things are a little less chaotic—this desk, though, is yours,” Benson tapped one of the few spaces that had been cleared of personal effects as Elora set the box on the top and pulled her jacket off, draping it across the back of the chair. “By the way, I may be your Captain now but I do prefer to be called Olivia. We’re not so different, you and I.”</p><p>                “I promise I don’t skitter across floors to pee in corners,” Elora cued her understanding as she had a weak smile and her fingers along the edge of the desk, memorizing it like it was something monumental. “Thank you.”</p><p>                “Thank God for that, then,” Olivia stifled a laugh as intangible chatter came from the edge of the office, where the stairs to the bunks led. “Please tell me that I have a semi-rested squad ready to push to find this sick son of a bitch before we run out of time and he gets another one.”</p><p>                “I don’t know if rest is what I’d call it with Fin snoring six feet away from my head,” The blond just behind Carisi was pulling her hair into a pony as she reached the bottom step, the dark circles under her eyes a little darker and puffier than normal as she stared directly at Elora. “It was three hours—at best.”</p><p>                “It’s not my fault I can sleep anywhere and you ladies wake up over nothing,” Fin was eyeing the pot of coffee and stretching his back as they got to the main floor of the squad room. “We’re good, Captain.”</p><p>                “Sergeant Fin Tutuola, Detective Amanda Rollins, Detective Kat Azar Tamin, I need to introduce you to Detective Elora Caruso,” Olivia had one of those expressions on her face that reminded Elora of a cat that was seconds away from knocking over a vase as she raised her eyebrows and gestured the gap between them. “Elora is officially a new member of our team.”</p><p>                “Looks like Fin is the lonely fox in the henhouse,” Carisi couldn’t help himself as he watched Fin crossing his arms over the realization over being vastly outnumbered by women.</p><p>                “I’m gonna need another cup of coffee before I say something about the level of estrogen in the room,” Fin was mostly teasing as he backed toward the coffee pot, his chin elevated as he looked at each one of his colleagues, stopping with Elora. “Anyone else need a boost?”</p><p>                Amanda and Kat nodded, both still looking in the general direction of their new co-worker as she leaned against the outer curve of her desk. Elora and Olivia gave each other knowing looks before Olivia moved to a mobile display board, pulling it toward the center of their walkway. Carisi was helping Fin with the coffee while Amanda sat down in the chair that faced Elora’s. Thorny wouldn’t have done it justice to describe the atmosphere as Carisi and Fin brought the coffee into the desk area, divvying them up to each person who seemed to need it. Carisi mouthed “awkward” at Elora as he leaned against a stack of filing cabinets and invited an odd look from Amanda in the process. It was uncomfortable and not one person in the room was exactly helping the situation as Elora shoved her hands into her pockets, crossing one leg over the other.</p><p>                “So…do we have a victim map? Suspect list? What are the particulars?” Elora couldn’t resist the opportunity to break the silence as she looked at the board, at the map of incomplete evidence in front of her like pieces to an obscure puzzle. “A fresh pair of eyes couldn’t hurt and, even though this seems twitchy for everyone, I’m here to do exactly what all of you are.”</p><p>                “Over the past two weeks, four little girls between the age of eight and nine have been kidnapped, violated repeatedly, beaten, restrained, stabbed, and finally, suffocated. They were taken in broad daylight from various locations across Manhattan and deposited in public spaces just out of view for long enough to allow a clean getaway,” Amanda had a file in one hand while the fresh cup of coffee was in the other, steam rising from the top as she raised it to her lips, peering at Elora for a moment before taking a sip.</p><p>                “The timing isn’t consistent, either,” Olivia had a red labeled timeline on the board with markers set up on it, noting each disappearance. “The only constant element is the amount of time between disappearance and discovery.”</p><p>                “The signature is a single Polaroid photo left in either a backpack or a messenger bag with the remnants of their clothes that each girl had been kidnapped in,” Kat had a hint of an accent and a hidden rasp as she met Olivia at the board, indicating the four photos that were posted below the larger ones taken by the medical examiner. “The photos were taken no more than two hours before their deaths—complete with a written marker of the date and time at the bottom.”</p><p>                Elora had already been examining the massive series of photos, mapwork, and line charts as she approached the board, pouring over the Polaroids as she looked at them, sequentially. There was something methodical about her approach as she had Olivia mystified over her silence, noting as Elora’s eyes darted between each one like she was memorizing detail by detail. It wasn’t eidetic or photographic about the way her brain worked, by any stretch, but she was unfolding it, piece by piece. It was as though she had witnessed it, down to the tiniest of details. The horrific unfurled and revealed something underneath as the photos had a touch of obsession and compulsion in the fine lines of the background.</p><p>                This wasn’t a house but it was made to look like one and the edges told so much more of the story.</p><p>                He gave them a place to play pretend and lull them into a false sense of security—for only a moment.</p><p>                “Did the techs test the clothing for particulates?” Elora spun, reaching for a dry erase marker as Olivia’s eyes widened over the burst of energy from her new Detective on duty.</p><p>                “Yes,” Olivia reached for the printout from Fin’s outstretched hand and flipped the pages open to the portion with the coded results.</p><p>                “Did they find anything with lead-based paint or brass shavings? Both?” Elora drew a line from the Polaroids toward a blank space on the board, with an arrow as she waited for the answer.</p><p>                “Both, but that didn’t narrow down the location to anything more than about a quarter of Manhattan’s pre-war buildings that haven’t been upgraded,” Olivia didn’t know where Elora was going with this but her exhaustion was catching up to her as the cat and mouse game chipped away a little more of the patience she had left.</p><p>                “It won’t—it narrows down the trade industry of the perp,” Elora began writing down several types of tradesman, glancing at Olivia as she wrote down four major industries. “Access to antiques, condemned properties, properties that are being restored, and contractors are going to have the most direct contact with both of those materials on a day to day basis without a second glance. Brass from that bedframe and the lead-based paint from the wall. Look just above their heads in the photos, you can see water damage and a gaping hole in the lath and plaster.”</p><p>                “Lath and plaster? How old would that building have to be to have that kind of material in the construction?” Kat had pulled up a search engine while Elora inadvertently paced the floor.</p><p>                “They stopped using that in the 1930s but a lot of buildings in the Bronx still have walls built with that instead of drywall,” Fin had an a-ha moment as the energy in the room went electric, the spark scattering from person-to-person as Elora’s point-of-view seemed to spread like wildfire. “We’ve been looking in the wrong borough this whole time.”</p><p>                “It’s more common in the Bronx, yes, but it’s not limited to the Bronx,” Elora shook her head and looked at the map of New York City, the vastness almost overwhelming as she took another breath. “We have to focus on the trade industries—the suspect list? Did anyone fit the criteria?”</p><p>                “There were over twenty names on that list, Elle,” Carisi’s instant use of Elora’s nickname warranted a sideways glance from Amanda as his instant rapport with her was something she hadn’t anticipated as he put the cup of coffee down on Fin’s desk, pointing out the list of names. “They’ve been questioned once before…fruitlessly, I might add.”</p><p>                “Well, eliminate the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker before you go asking for round two, Sonny,” Elora motioned toward the same manifest of individuals, a single brow elevating as her wheels turned over the possibilities. “Narrow it down.”</p><p>                “With the removal of individuals that don’t fit those industry criteria, the suspect pool drops to twelve,” Amanda was still visually dissecting the body language and lack of formality between Carisi and Elora as she perused the list for just long enough to mentally check off each person with the right occupation. “Anyone want to guess the mutual, interesting tidbit about the gentlemen left on this list?”</p><p>                “They all reside and work in or around the Bronx?” Olivia had a much-needed smirk on her face as she made eye contact with Elora, as life was breathing back into a case that was becoming a formidable beast of its own. “I think we just found daylight.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>7:45 AM</p><p>PS 359 Concourse Village Elementary</p><p>750 Concourse Village W, The Bronx, NY</p><p> </p><p>                The painted, smiling faces of little children on the brick clashed between the rails of the massive, green, wrought iron fence that wrapped the majority of PS 359. The school, standing three stories high with half of one below street level, was between some of the busier streets full of one-way directional and multi-level parking structures. It didn’t stand out but most of the buildings in that neighborhood were never meant to be unique—they were meant to be safe. As close to a fortress as it could get. A crossing guard stood just feet from the mural at one end of the building while two more were posted down the street, closer to the busy intersection. The foursquare was visible from the opening in the fence, the gate wide open as students and staff passed into the spot after hopping out of buses and idling cars. Horns were sounding as impatient parents were pulling in and out of the parking spots, dodging pedestrians, and short buses as they moved down the one-way street. It was chaotic with only fifteen minutes before the morning bell.</p><p>                “Emily, come back and get your lunchbox!” Amy Martin called after her precocious nine-year-old as she got nearly to the fence, her long, blond braids bouncing with every step as she did a spin. “Come on! I’m going to be late for work, muffin.”</p><p>                Emily’s bright, lilac jumper with daisies across the shoulders and chest was already getting wet as the hood of her dark yellow raincoat fell back, the zipper broken in the front, as she held onto her backpack with one hand. “I got it, I got it! Don’t squish my papers! Momma! Don’t squish my papers! My homework is in there!”</p><p>                “Your lunchbox has to go in your backpack, Em, now stop wiggling so I can put your lunchbox away,” Amy adjusted her grip on the soft material of the carrying case for the lunch while pushing papers aside to make room for it. “You’re cleaning this out tonight, Little Miss. It’s a mess and there should be room for your work along with your lunch.”</p><p>                “Okay, momma, I will,” Emily was tugging her backpack away from her mother’s grasp before the zipper was pulled into place.</p><p>                “I’ll be here right after school, don’t play around coming outside,” Amy watched as her little dove started to trot away after slamming the car door, her white tights already snagged across the back of one leg from her ankle to her knee. “Hey, excuse me, young lady, I know it’s 2019 and all, but…are you just going to run off without saying <em>I love you</em> to your <em>mom</em>?”</p><p>                Emily had a bright, toothy grin, absent the bottom front teeth that had fallen out a week earlier as she stopped, pivoted in her Mary Janes, and blew a kiss. “I love you, momma.”</p><p>                “I love you, too, Emily Ann,” Amy called after her and smirked at the indignant groan from her child as she stomped across a puddle, splashing water into the air.</p><p>                Amy rolled the window up and stalled in the drop off zone, taking advantage of the lack of an irate parent behind her leaning on their car horn or cussing in her rearview as she reached for the tube of lipstick in the cupholder. She already knew she was going to be late but she wanted a quick color refresh as she popped open the container, glancing into the mirror to apply a fresh layer of coral across her lips. Emily was in her peripheral; lilac and deep goldenrod flickering through the streaks of accumulating rain against the back window as she hopped along the sidewalk like an uncoordinated frog, only slower. Amy shook her head and glanced down as she twisted the lipstick back into its tube and pushed the lid back into place, the click loud in the cabin of her car, humming along to the melody on the radio.</p><p>                “That kid…is going to be late for class and I’m going to get the phone call explaining to me the importance of promptness,” Amy tapped her free hand along the top of the wheel, trying to find the rhythm over the sound of rain against the hood.</p><p>She reached for the volume adjust as the song indicated a change and let the number climb just as a loud, ear-piercing scream preceded the bombardment of shouts of nearby children and adults alike.</p><p>                <em>Please, God no.</em></p><p>Her entire torso turned, the seatbelt digging into her neck as it tugged against the safety mechanism while she strained her eyes to see through the muddied, dirty back window. Amy held her breath and winced as the colors turned and the figures became less obscured—of something large hovering over a shorter, more delicate figure, demanding they move. Demanding, silently, that they go with them. Her heart stopped and time slowed to a crawl as she witnessed, through blurred, partially tinted glass, the wild flight of white tights as they kicked in the ar.</p><p>                “Emily!” Amy throttled the gear into park and wrestled with her belt, nearly tumbling out of the car as her child’s frantic screams echoed through the street. “Let go of my daughter, you Goddamn son of a bitch!”</p><p>                Emily thrashed with such intensity that the partially opened backpack spilled open, emptying across the sidewalk toward the open door of a white, panel van. Amy ran along the upward grade and teetered in her heels as the rain pelted her face, stinging her skin as she shouted her daughter’s name to the heavens. Her voice strained, louder than any other person trying to get to the light of her life. There were people nearby but not close enough to be within arm’s length as Emily’s little form disappeared into the side of that open van, the door slamming shut with a thud. Amy had tears in her eyes as her fingers grazed the side of the van’s passenger door as the tires squealed, and the exhausted spewed a thick cloud into the air as it sped off.</p><p>                Amy tumbled onto the pavement, gashing her palms and knees open as she struggled to see the back end of the van as it made a sharp turn at the end of the street. “No! Emily! Somebody, they took my baby!” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>7:55 AM</p><p>Special Victims Unit</p><p>Sixteenth Precinct, Manhattan, New York, New York</p><p> </p><p>                “I’m getting a refill,” Amanda was in mid-yawn, the extent of her fatigue creeping to the surface as her energy ran dry much like the cup in her hand. “Anyone else need another while I’m up?”</p><p>                “You’re depleted,” Carisi’s voice softened, his accent muddled underneath a tenderness that was more knee-jerk than he had intended as her head snapped to look at him. “You need to take a break.”</p><p>                “I just need a refill and I’ll be perfect,” Amanda rubbed her eyes as she poured the coffee, the steam rising into the air just above the rim of the paper cup.</p><p>                “Amanda, you’re going on twenty-four hours without a refresh,” Olivia watched as Amanda barely stirred the cup before downing a quarter of the cup in a single gulp, the visible exhaustion was written across her face as she did her best not to make eye contact with her concerned captain. “You need to go home—spend some time with the girls.”</p><p>                “No one in this room, other than Caruso, is fresh as a daisy and we’re finally getting somewhere,” Amanda was protesting but her expression told a different story as she swallowed a half-developed yawn while sinking into the chair at her desk. “I’m good. I’ve got this.”</p><p>                “Come on, Rollins, this is how mistakes are made,” Fin had the logic going as he sat on the edge of his desk with his ailing cup of black coffee next to his leg, his arms crossed as he looked around the room. “Anyone over twenty hours needs to go home and be on standby. I’m clocking in at sixteen. I’m good to go for another twelve after the four hours I just got.”</p><p>                “I’m approaching twenty-two hours,” Kat’s shoulders slumped as she glanced at the window, at the heavily falling rain outside. “As much as I don’t want to pull myself from the work—I’m closing in on double-vision and I know I need more sleep than the cribs can offer.”</p><p>                “I’m sitting at eighteen hours including a stint in the bunks,” Olivia was doing the mental math as she glanced between Amanda and Kat, shaking her head gently. “I know you both don’t want to go home but, I have to make the call for the benefit of the team. With Elora here, we have another body to pull the slack and you two can get rest. You’ll be on standby if anything changes.”</p><p>                Elora didn’t know how she felt being the hinge of sending two of the team home but they all looked worse for the wear as she glanced up from the pile of paperwork she had already begun to spread across the previously blank desk. They were all experiencing varying degrees of lassitude, to the point that sluggishness was setting in—starting with Amanda Rollins. Amanda had another one of those long, almost unnecessary, glances with Carisi that would’ve continued if it hadn’t been for Elora accidentally knocking a file between their feet. She looked up at the interaction and caught the signs of something buried, hidden away from everyone, and knew that a mutual affection resided there for so long—however unspoken. Her eyes went wide as she met a knowing, tight-lipped glance from Fin, who was reaching for a refill, as he gestured across his throat with the straw stirrer.</p><p>                <em>Oh, it’s that kind of situation.</em></p><p>                Elora nodded slowly and snatched the paperwork from the floor, popping her tongue against the roof of her mouth while Kat and Amanda made a reluctant, slow exit.</p><p>                “Elle, do you still have that list of contacts from the original suspect list?” Carisi tossed the paper cup into the trash after finishing the last drop, glancing at the fresh mapping that she had done on the board in front of them.</p><p>                Olivia flinched and met a waiting glance from Fin as she elevated her head. Hearing that name wasn’t supposed to hurt but it was. Hearing what had always been his name after so long wasn’t supposed to cut her open again. Olivia shook her head, shaking it off all over again and looked around at her team, hoping that no one other than Fin had witnessed it. She had gotten lucky this time.</p><p>                It might not be that way next time.</p><p>                “Sure, do you need it?” Elora pulled a copy of the list with the new priority narrowed on it, complete with each person’s occupation highlighted.</p><p>                “Yeah, I’m going to take this over to One Police Plaza and see if I can get the techs on it to see if these guys correlate to our kidnap zones. Create some sort of comprehensive map out of the data,” Carisi pulled the paper from Elora’s hand and tucked it away with his paperwork in the briefcase.</p><p>                “Stir crazy over there with the District Attorney’s office?” Olivia stretched her arms and popped her neck, raising a single brow at her former Detective as he moved toward the door.</p><p>                “I have to do something to get my docket going today,” Carisi stood in the doorway and shot a grin back at Benson, nodding gently as he glanced at Elora. “I’ll work on this and, hopefully, by some miracle…we’ll get this guy.”</p><p>                The phone rang at Caruso’s desk, much to her surprise, stopping Carisi from leaving as she picked up the phone with a certain level of apprehension. “This is Caruso?”</p><p>                “Detective Caruso, it’s Anne Deluca in dispatch—you might want to put me on speaker,” The thick, New York accent caught Elora off-guard as she reached for the speaker button and placed the phone on the desk, leaning on her elbows.</p><p>                “Anne, you’re on,” Elora looked up at Olivia, knowing that it wasn’t good before she could even continue. “What’s going on?”</p><p>                “We just got a call through to EMS from a distraught mom that just witnessed her child being kidnapped at PS 359 that fits your age range of your prior four girls. She said that a white van with no windows was pulled up to the sidewalk like they’d been watching and waiting,” Deluca was typing in the background, the not-so-distant chatter of other 9-1-1 operators behind her barely within earshot. “I tried to get a hold of Detective Rollins but her office phone went to voicemail.”</p><p>                “That’s the right neighborhood developing,” Fin put a dot on the school, showing yet another proximal edge to the other kidnapping locations within the Bronx. “An awful lot of ground to cover when you look at the space he’s covered.”</p><p>                “A panel van would conceal a struggling eight or nine-year-old and, depending on how loud the engine is,” Elora was already pulling up a vehicle search, exploring the options for vans as they still had Anne on the phone. “It could potentially dampen the sound of screams until they were restrained.”</p><p>                “Fin, can you get a list of panel vans on the tablets?” Olivia tapped on the top of his screen as he slid into his chair. “Elora is already doing the same on her computer.”</p><p>                “Just give me a minute,” Fin nodded, scrolling through a massive database as he held the tablet between his fingers.</p><p>                “The mother’s name is Amy Martin and she is refusing to leave the sidewalk in front of the school until she talks to Special Victims,” Anne’s static typing in the background was reminiscent of a ticking clock as Olivia glanced at the hanging timepiece above the windows to her office. “I told her I would get someone out to her as soon as possible; EMS is already on scene.”</p><p>                “Thanks, Deluca, we’ll get there right away,” Elora placed the receiver back on the swatch hook and pressed the speaker function to end the call, making eye contact with Olivia.</p><p>                “Caruso, you and I will go talk to Amy Martin,” Olivia pointed at Elora and turned her head toward Fin and Carisi, “I need you two to pay a visit to One Police Plaza to work on that suspect list—two heads are better than one.”</p><p>                “Anything you want us to look for?” Fin grabbed his jacket and finished his coffee, discarding the cup in the nearby wastebasket, urgency in his voice as Olivia disappeared into her office.</p><p>                “Radius zone and a list of potential sites that no one would have thought to look at before today,” Olivia pulled the door shut while finagling her arms into her heavy, warm coat as she glanced over at Elora while she placed the box on top of her desk. “You know you can unpack that, right?”</p><p>                “Let’s get through today, first,” Elora already felt the familial tug at her heart as she nodded and grabbed her coat, nodding in Olivia’s direction. “We’ve got work to do.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>8:30 AM</p><p>PS 359 Concourse Village Elementary</p><p>750 Concourse Village W, The Bronx, NY</p><p> </p><p>                The strobes of police lights and emergency vehicles alike were already plainly visible as Olivia pulled up the hill along the one-way street, the blue stairwell of PS 359 in full view on their right. The order had already been given to block off the street from the cutoff of East 156<sup>th</sup> and Concourse Village Way to the second edge of East 156<sup>th</sup> around the corner. Elora could already see two of the medics along the sidewalk, hovering over Amy as she stared blankly forward, the hysterics all but over as the shock set in. Her eyes were fixated on the scattered, soaked remnants of her daughter’s belongings—drawings, books, papers. It was cold, almost blisteringly so, as Olivia pulled the NYPD issued unmarked along the barricade and parked at an angle near one of the white squad cars. Officers dressed in their blues were scattered, marking the black skids from the van while others were still interviewing the crossing guards near the fence.</p><p>                “I want to see how you are with Amy Martin,” Olivia was next to Elora as they walked past the front of the car, both pulling on gloves as the fog came from the sewers. “I’ll only step in if you’re in the weeds or if I have my own questions.”</p><p>                “Loud and clear,” Elora turned her head toward Olivia, voice soft and calm as the sight in front of them was tense, at best. “I’m interested in getting her to the station—out of the wet and the cold. She’ll be able to talk without looking at what’s left of her kid’s belongings on the ground.”</p><p>                “You read my mind,” Olivia was pleasantly surprised by the forward-thinking as she flashed her badge to the other officers at the yellow tape.</p><p>                “Mrs. Martin?” Elora kept her shield free, the droplets of water collecting across the lettering as she held it up until Amy looked up from her uncomfortable seated position on the cracked, puddled concrete. “I’m Detective Elora Caruso, this is Captain Olivia Benson, we’re from the Manhattan Special Victims Unit and we both heard about what happened to your daughter…”</p><p>                “Yeah?” Amy’s mascara and eyeliner were streaked clear to her chin and she’d wiped her lipstick almost to her ear as the tears blended seamlessly with the downpour down her face and blouse.</p><p>                Elora knelt in front of her, purposely blocking her view of the items that had little, yellow numbers flagging them as she dug deep and locked eyes with their victim’s mother. “I know that what you saw just a little while ago has you beating yourself up but we need you. We need you warm, dry, and able to answer some questions. Can you tell me your daughter’s name?”</p><p>                “Emily,” Amy’s voice was shaking, the tears streaming down her face as she brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them close as she looked through Elora like she could see the other side. “I don’t want to leave her schoolwork behind…she needs it.”</p><p>                “I completely understand that Mrs. Martin, but these other officers who are here need to collect it for a little while so they can help us find Emily,” Elora had her shins soaking in the chill of the water beneath as she repositioned her weight and felt the dampness working up both legs. “Captain Benson and I can take you back to our precinct to get you warm, comfortable, and get you a cup of tea or coffee.”</p><p>                “It happened so fast,” The tips of Amy’s fingers were pale and bluish from the cold as she tucked them into her palm, hiding them against pulled sleeves while softening up in front of Elora. “I tried so hard to reach for her…If I hadn’t fallen…”</p><p>                “You can’t blame yourself for this, Mrs. Martin,” Olivia wasn’t stepping into the conversation as much as she was reinforcing the same ideals that Elora was. “What you saw could help get her back in more ways than you know. She needs your strength right now.”</p><p>                “She was so close to me,” Amy had scraped and white knuckles as she brushed the stray hairs out of her face and watched the running water as it swirled into the drain.</p><p>                Elora enveloped the top of Amy’s hand with her palm after pulling off one of her gloves, the tiniest droplets of rain splitting off from the center as the slow, soft blink brought Amy back to reality. “I know. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to find her but I need your help.”</p><p>                “Okay,” Amy nodded, sniffing back the congestion as she wiped her eyes, smearing even more of the eyeliner and mascara in the process. “I’ll go wherever you need me to go—just find my Emily. Please? Find her.”</p><p>                Olivia stood and captured the attention of one of the officers as they walked by, elevating her voice as she aimed her fingers at the marked spots near the soaked schoolbooks. “Any of the child’s belongings that don't have traces of evidence on them that you don’t need to test, bring it to the one six…”</p><p>                “You got it, Captain Benson,” The officer nodded, his dampened blues doing little to keep him dry as he carried a closed kit toward the mess of congregating NYPD.</p><p>                Elora stood and felt her slacks sticking to her legs, the cold chill working its way up her flesh as the breeze snuck by while reaching down toward Amy. “Let me help you up.”</p><p>                Amy let her, accepting the assist as she stood and staggered from being against the unforgiving cement until both feet held the balance, making eye contact with Elora. “Thank you…both of you.”</p><p>                Elora nodded and gestured toward the car while Olivia continued to witness her gentle, direct nature with a distraught mother. It was a quality that usually took practice and Elora seemed to navigate the details with ease as she opened the backseat door, waiting until she was safely inside to let the mechanism click into place. Her sobs were understandable as she gave in and let the ache roll through her as she sat in the backseat of the unmarked while Olivia and Elora stood just outside. It was heart wrenching yet fueled both of their motivation as Elora put her leather gloves back on and made eye contact with Olivia as she reached for the door handle. A twinge of regret was already swirling in the air as her transfer’s timing seemed so late; there was so much that had already gone wrong.</p><p>                She wanted to make a difference this time.</p><p>                “You’re remarkable with someone experiencing a considerable amount of emotional pain, Elora,” Olivia nodded as she crossed in front of the car and pulled the keys from her pocket. “I know someone who used to do the same thing…out of nowhere.”</p><p>                “Sometimes, my degree has to be put to good use,” Elora shrugged her shoulders and hesitated with the door handle, keeping Olivia from doing the same. “I’m not going to break my promise.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A big thank you to Cate for looking over a lot of this and helping with the beta-ing. You kept me sane.</p><p>To my SVU writers group...I hope it lives up to expectations.</p><p>Quotes by:<br/>Richard L Ratliff<br/>Mitch Albom</p><p>As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and encouraged. If you see a blatant spelling error please let me know. This is an ongoing series so be gentle.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Agitation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A mother struggles with the blurred details of her daughter’s abduction and a team interrogates four suspects that have everything wrong on their list of qualifications. </p><p>“It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped.” – Tony Robbins</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Chapters may contain descriptions of violence, sexual assault, assault on a minor, and the death associated—depictions are not meant to trigger or otherwise damage readers. Proceed with caution.</p><p>Agitation (ag·i·ta·tion)<br/>/ˌajəˈtāSH(ə)n/<br/>noun<br/>1.<br/>a state of anxiety or nervous excitement.<br/>"she was wringing her hands in agitation"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I can’t control the wind</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I can adjust the sail.</em>
</p><p>-Ricky Skaggs</p><p> </p><p>9:15 AM</p><p>Special Victims Unit</p><p>Sixteenth Precinct, Manhattan, New York, New York</p><p> </p><p>                Elora came up the stairs to the visitor’s lounge with a blanket across her arm, the scattered conversation of officers moving below her as she put more distance between her and the squad floor. Amy Martin looked up at her from the sofa, a cup of hot tea steeping in front of her on the coffee table, the tear streaks finally dry. Elora draped the blanket around her, letting her gather it as she needed as the chill finally set in from being out in the rain without more than her thin jacket to shield her from the elements. Amy scooted back, lifting her cup of tea to get something hot in her system as the heat radiated against her palms. She was as close as one could get too overwrought as one could get as Elora cleared her throat and sat down next to her, leaving enough of a bubble to keep her from pushing her over the edge.</p><p>                “Amy, I know this is difficult but I need you to walk me through what happened to Emily,” Elora pivoted her knees and tilted her head as Amy held a tentative breath, the tea at her lap as she made eye contact with Elora. “The smallest, most insignificant detail could be important even if you were focused entirely on reaching for her.”</p><p>                “The last few days of school have been messy and I’ve been cutting it close getting Em to school on time every day because of traffic after fighting her to put on her shoes in the morning. Half the time she’ll fight me to put on a pair of socks,” Amy wrapped her fingers around the edge of the blanket and noticed the scrapes along her knees down to her shins complete with the massive snags in her stockings as a flash of Emily’s backpack emptying went into her consciousness. “I was still in the temporary parking when I heard the screaming and, somehow, I knew it was her.”</p><p>                “The crossing guard that was closest to the van told some of the other officers that the man grabbing Emily had a larger build,” Elora could tell she was breaking again as she watched Amy’s hands shake while moving the cup back to the table. “Did you see any details about him that might have stood out or been distinguishing?”</p><p>                 Amy furrowed her brows and nodded as she looked up at the lighting fixture as it was dim in the upstairs, comfortable space, restoring some semblance of sanity as she looked at Elora. “When I got close, I was expecting to see a driver but he was alone and he had dark marks on his hands but no gloves. It reminded me of my dad’s hands when I was little after he’d clean out the chimney—ashy and blackened from creosote.”</p><p>                “That’s very helpful, Amy,” Elora was trying to envision the scene but there were so many pieces missing that the only thing she could reconcile was the sight of soot-covered hands smearing prints on a small child. “Were you able to get a good look at his face?”</p><p>                “He had one of those, half masks on that keep you warm,” Amy snapped her fingers and straightened her spine as she mimicked the motion across her face. “The wool ones, though, it wasn’t a thinner material. I could see his eyes…they were dark, squinty…bushy eyebrows. Does that make a difference?”</p><p>                “Absolutely,” Elora clasped her hands together, doing her best to toe the line between pushing for more information and empathizing with her. “When the van pulled away, did you notice anything unique about it? Make? Maybe a license plate number?”</p><p>                “I took a pretty big dive but even then, the only thing at the back end of that van that I could make out was a blank space where a plate should be,” Amy stared at the floor before reaching for the cup of tea, grimacing as she tried to remember anything else. “I think it was one of those Chevy Express vans? It had a ladder thing on the roof?”</p><p>                “A roller bar?” Elora had her cell phone out, googling for photos of vans that could match the type, angling the phone toward her. “Did it look like any of these?”</p><p>                Amy waited until Elora scrolled to a photo that had a steel partition inside that divided the front and passenger seats from the cargo area, the door slid open to the back wheel well. “That one…it looked like that one.”</p><p>                “It had a steel partition inside of the cabin?” Elora’s eyes widened as she kept the phone angled toward Amy, the photo still visible between them. “Are you absolutely sure?”</p><p>                “Yes, it was white just like the inside and the outside of the van…and there was a door between the seats,” Amy nodded emphatically as Elora stood up, elevating her shoulders as she adjusted the blanket around her a little better. “I noticed that it was open before the sliding door slammed shut.”</p><p>                “Amy, I need to go share this information with my Captain,” Elora gestured over the railing for one of the other officers running paperwork through the precinct to come up the stairs. “I’m going to have another officer sit with you and have another one run out for something for you to eat—I will be right back.”</p><p>                “What do you need, detective?” Officer Meadows met her near the top of the stairs, his pressed blues fresh as a daisy, blonde locks peeking out beneath his cap.</p><p>                “I need you to sit up here with Mrs. Martin while I brief Captain Benson with some information,” Elora pointed toward Amy and continued down the steps. “Get her anything she needs, please, Meadows.”</p><p>                “Whatcha got for me, Caruso?” Officer Tripp was absent her cap but had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, reeking of inexperience as she nearly careened into Elora as she got to the halfway point on the stairwell.</p><p>                “Tripp, I need a favor,” Elora dug into her pocket and pulled her wallet free, pulling out a couple of bills, pushing them into her hand as she glanced up the steps. “I have a very kind, fraught mother up there, who could use something to eat even if it’s something just to peck at. See about getting bagels sent up? I know it’s not exactly what a new cop wants to do but…”</p><p>                “No, I got it,” Lee smiled and put the money into her breast pocket, continuing down the steps with Elora. “Gets me out of another week’s worth of paperwork for a little while.”</p><p>                “Thanks, Tripp,” Elora went around the corner and made eye contact with Olivia as she came out of her office.               </p><p>                “How’s she doing?” Olivia made a motion toward the balcony, the weariness setting in as she brought an oversized cup toward the coffee pot to get hot water.</p><p>                “Better than expected,” Elora leaned against a filing cabinet and unlocked her phone, showing Olivia the photos of the van, “Amy remembers seeing a van like this—complete with the steel barrier. White interior and exterior. No plates. Our perp had half of his face covered with a wool weather guard…bushy eyebrows, dark eyes.”</p><p>                “I think I need to pay a visit to your former Lieutenant when this case is over,” Olivia dropped a raspberry tea bag into the cup and filled it with water while reaching for a couple of packets of stevia.</p><p>                “Jesus, why?” Elora’s head snapped to attention as she pulled her phone back, letting the screen go back. “Can’t possibly be sick of me already…I hope.”</p><p>                 “Oh, no, not at all,” Olivia stirred her tea and smirked, scoffing at Elora as she elevated her steaming cup toward her lips. “I plan on shoving his nose right in it that he benched a detective with more skills in her pinky than the entire squad at the one-three.”</p><p>                Elora’s teeth held the tip of her tongue hostage as her eyebrows went up, not entirely sure what to do with the compliment as she changed the subject. “Have we heard anything from Fin and Carisi about a list? I’d be curious about getting one of these bastards into an interview room…and run a few creeps through an agitator.”</p><p>                “They were almost done when I checked in with them a few minutes ago,” Olivia already had an air of familiarity with Elora as she tossed the tea bag into the trash and continued drinking the hot liquid. “Itching to put your degree to good use?” </p><p>                “My twenties disappeared over getting that master’s degree and I intend on making sure that I can squeeze every bit use out of it,” Elora had her hand on her hip, a spark in her eye that had not been there since before the days of the one three.</p><p>                “We’ve got seven individuals that match the criteria that El came up with,” Carisi’s voice carried over the top of the cabinets as he came around the corner, carrying a stack of papers.</p><p>                “Got a few characters on here with a couple of interesting records,” Fin’s leather jacket was slicked down with rain as he came up beside Elora and put his folder into her hand.</p><p>                “No umbrella on a day like this, Fin?” Elora flipped open the file and moved toward her desk, thumbing through the profiles. “That’s really living on the edge.”</p><p>                “Catching on quick with that sarcasm, Caruso,” Fin shed the heavy layer of leather, hanging it over the back of his chair as he caught a glance from Olivia. “The top three in that file have priors for assault or peeping in dressing rooms.”</p><p>                “Any of them pop for both?” Olivia peeked over Elora’s shoulder as she flipped through each condensed photo file, their mugshots standing out with each turn of the page. “All seven have some kind of charge against them?”</p><p>                “Petty theft, mostly,” Carisi nodded and flopped the file onto the empty desk, wiping his sleeves as he loosened the scarf around his neck until it hung along his shoulders. “There’s one that’s got an arrest after a laundry list of unpaid parking tickets.”</p><p>                “Got ourselves a triple threat,” Elora tapped the paper, clearing her throat as she read through the profile. “Randall Parker, forty-seven years old contractor, co-owner of a business with his brother…prior arrest for assault and voyeurism. He spent a year at Rikers and then an additional two years on probation.”</p><p>                “His victim was the interesting part,” Fin had a knack for the details and his facial expression was grim as Elora finally came to the section on the paperwork regarding the explanation of charges.</p><p>                “His twelve-year-old stepdaughter,” Elora’s mind was on their missing girl, who was running out of time, as she held her breath for a moment, running through the scenarios involving interviews with any combination of the non-descript faces in her hands. “Do any of these guys drive a white, Express van?”</p><p>                Carisi had the more detailed printouts at his disposal as he sunk into a chair, carefully thumbing through each printout. “Every single one of them owns one of those vans…that just made things a little more…difficult.”</p><p>                “Bring them all in,” Olivia had a delighted smile on her face as she made eye contact with Fin, the contents of her cup barely above a simmer as she took another drink. “I’m teeming with curiosity over how well a Masters in Psychology will do in an interrogation.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>10:15 AM</p><p> </p><p>                “Shouldn’t you be in there instead of out here?” Olivia nudged Elora as she stood at the window, observing Seth Wallace as he fidgeted in the cold, steel chair with his thumbs twiddling in front of him on the table. “What are you waiting on?”</p><p>                “Oh, I’m not waiting, I’m watching. I’ve already been in there twice just pushing his buttons and squeezed a very interesting detail about his personality. This guy has massive OCD,” Elora nodded in the direction of the pane of two-way glass, the sound cut off from their vantage point. “Five…four…three…two…”</p><p>                Seth Wallace stood and approached the glass, feverishly scratching his neck until it was raw and red as he started mumbling to himself about deadlines and priority phone calls. His size was formidable but his physicality sunk inward as his shoulders slouched, hands gripped at his waistline. He began pacing; counting out the steps in sequences of eight, pivoting each time he reached the eighth. It made it easier to notice the deep line of grit underneath his nails as he made his turns, piquing Olivia’s curiosity a little more. Olivia’s eyebrows went up, arching toward the ceiling, while Elora rubbed her chin with the edge of her index finger, both watching him with a certain amount of intent as his voice got louder. Elora pivoted her hips and put her shoulder against the window frame, carefully crossing her arms as she listened to him while Olivia chewed on the inside of her cheek.</p><p>                “The paperwork has deadlines. I have to meet my deadlines. I can’t be late,” Seth’s tenor was frantic, bordering on the kind you get when you confine a person suffering from intense claustrophobia as he slid his fingers along the top of the table until they squealed. “They want to make me screw up again…they do. The phone calls…they’re going to start piling up and I’m going to get yelled at.”</p><p>                “That’s my cue,” Elora twisted the door handle, letting herself into the room as Seth continued to mindlessly pace, his eyes never once lifting to look at her. “Who wants to make you screw up, Mister Wallace?”</p><p>                “Seth, Seth, Seth, Seth…Only Dad is Mister, I’m just Seth. A Mister is old and I’m not old,” Seth had a nervous tick, right down to the pulsing shifts in the way he moved his feet as he met glances with her. “The clients—they’re demanding—always changing the plans. Always saying it’s not right when it’s perfect. It’s <em>always</em> perfect. I work so hard.”</p><p>                “Seth, why don’t you come over here and sit down before you wear a hole in the floor?” Elora pulled out the chair closest to her, patting the table until he was in her crosshairs directly across the metal surface. “That’s better…”</p><p>                “Why am I here?” Seth looked nothing like his voice would suggest as a soft, weak series of syllables popped free as he kept his eyes locked on the dulled surface in front of him. “I haven’t done anything wrong…I paid for all of those tickets a long time ago and I don’t drive anymore. It’s not good for me. I honk the horn too much.”</p><p>                “I mean, there’s not really a law about honking your horn. What I really want to ask you about is if you’re absolutely sure you don’t drive anymore?” Elora was itching to skip to the juicy details as she opened the file under her hands, carefully turning it toward him. “There’s a white, Chevy Express van registered in your name and I’m not a fan of liars, Seth.”</p><p>                “No, I don’t drive. I cut up my driver’s license almost three years ago,” Seth was shaking his head with fervency as the photo of the van was pushed closer and Elora leaned against the cold tabletop, staring him down. “I’ve only owned a Buick and the officers impounded it when they arrested me in 2014. Yeah, 2014…2014 is the last time I had a car.”</p><p>                “Come on, Seth, what did I just say about liars?” Elora tapped on the photo and shoved it closer with her index finger, propping herself up on her knees in the chair to invade his personal space just a bit. “I thought we were friends?”</p><p>                “How’s she doing?” Fin came up beside Olivia in the spot outside of the two-way, catching her scrutinizing Elora’s technique with a careful eye.</p><p>                “The fact that she didn’t quit after six months of sitting behind a desk when she has this kind of potential built up inside of her is astounding,” Olivia kept the monitor on, the sound of Elora pushing Seth’s buttons emanating from the speaker, as she tilted her head toward Fin, with one eyebrow raised. “She’s a natural.”</p><p>                “Good thing that bad leadership didn’t scare her off the force,” Fin had an idea of where that admiration was coming from as the glimmer of remembrance was all over Olivia’s face as she looked back on Elora conducting the interview. “She gettin’ anything out of him?” </p><p>                “She had obsessive-compulsive disorder pegged less than ten minutes after getting him in a room,” Olivia tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced at her watch, noting the time, in the morning running away from all of them. “Hopefully she can get him to budge on the issue of the mystery van that was purchased in his name less than a year ago.”</p><p>                “I’m not lying, Detective Caruso,” Seth had already said it four times but her rising from the chair made him say it louder, more pointedly as he had his fingers pressed just below the border of the file, agitation rising. “I don’t have a van. I walk and I ride a bike when the weather is bad—when it snows, I ride to work with my brother. I don’t drive.”</p><p>                “Friends aren’t supposed to keep telling tall tales until their noses start growing like Pinocchio, Seth,” Elora had a strategic series of movements as she crossed around the table to the back of him, thumping the steel that he was leaning against before reaching toward the file, tugging the photo to the left to expose a photo of Emily. “Did she bite you when you dragged her into the van? Or did she just kick at any part of your body until you could imprison her in the back?”</p><p>                Seth was sweating buckets, grinding his teeth, and rocking against the metal back of his chair until the legs were tapping on the flooring. “I don’t have a van, detective, and there was no little girl to put in a van that doesn’t exist. I walk to work or ride a bike. My brother drives…I sometimes ride with him.”</p><p>                Elora slid the photo of Emily onto the stack, emphasizing it with a palm along the border, below that angelic smile, finding a shred of grit as she continued to prod and shred away at the layers of Seth’s crumbling psyche. “How long did she scream after the door shut, Seth? Was it minutes? Where did you stash her when the police came to ask you questions?”</p><p>                “Hate to interrupt the show,” Carisi adjusted his tie as he walked up behind Olivia and Fin with a small stack of files tucked under his arm, honing in on the scene unfolding behind the glass. “She’s already the first guy halfway to tears over a few squeeze questions?”</p><p>                “Are you…drooling…Carisi?” Olivia caught a hint of a grin peeping across his lips as she angled her head to look at him, pointing at the paperwork partially concealed at the rib level. “Got something for me?”</p><p>                “No, no, no, just impressed,” Carisi rolled his eyes and pulled the files free, handing them over, his eyes on the frustration addled subject in his chair getting the workover from Elora. “Suspects two, three, and four are in separate rooms…quietly waiting for a little discussion.”</p><p>                “Jesus, didn’t even give us the chance to set up the pace with teams and El is already workin’ on one,” Fin scrunched up his nose and glanced at the ceiling while Olivia glossed over each file. “Which contestant is the lucky winner?”</p><p>                “You get to take over Seth Wallace,” Olivia knocked on the window and watched as Elora moved toward the door with a bit of reluctance on her face.</p><p>                “Am I laying it on too thick?” Elora pulled the door shut and rubbed her lips together as Seth’s frustrated groans echoed from the speaker.</p><p>                “No, I need you to swap out,” Olivia pulled Seth’s file from her grip and replaced it with another, intently waiting for the reaction as Elora’s eyebrows went up.</p><p>                Elora inadvertently sucked in a gulp of air and bit down on the edge of her lip as she saw the name along with the description on the inside of the manila. “You want me to tackle the <em>Ox</em>…this is the guy that got a reduction on a sentence after he broke his step-daughter’s jaw?”</p><p>                “You’ve already rattled one cage,” Olivia tapped on the edge of the partially open paperwork, appealing to the part of Elora that had been asking all of the right questions despite their provocative, incendiary nature. “Go rattle another.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>12:30 PM</p><p> </p><p>                Stalemate. Worse than a game of chess with an endless cycle of checks from a formidable, well-educated opponent versus the prodigy that had been scouting out the champion for weeks. It had boiled down to the timeworn versus optimistic. Battle-tested, rough around the edges versus the unblemished, untarnished sword. A set of fixed, routine habits clashing with an undeniable craving to push the envelope. Elora wasn’t going to lose this one. Not to the Ox. Not to the hard-nosed bastard sitting in front of her with a grin on his face that she’d like to slap off. Not to the man with a record and a knack for roughing up his step-child. It wasn’t going to be that easy.</p><p>                Not today.</p><p>                “I’m not going to tell you again, Detective Caruso,” Randall Parker’s shaggy, graying blond locks were going in every direction as he ran his fingers through the center of his scalp, redirecting the mess for a moment as he sneered at his own reflection. “I did my time for punishing my step-daughter and I’ve never touched another little girl other than the rightful discipline of that brat.”</p><p>                Checkmate.</p><p>                Elora was delicate, deliberate, as she placed each photo in front of him, displaying the various degrees of brutality he had subjected his step-daughter to. “This is what you call <em>rightful discipline</em>, Randall? Araya had to have her jaw wired shut and fourteen stitches from her eyebrow to her cheekbone where you held her down and cut her with a boning knife.”</p><p>                “She had it coming,” Randall had a smirk on his lips as he refused to look at the photos as he leaned back, elevating his palms behind his head while giving Elora a more provocative stare than necessary. “You could’ve used a beating or three—would’ve made you less of a bitch. It’s a pity, really, you’re hot until you start talking.”</p><p>                “I’m not your type, Randall,” Elora took a swipe at his elbows, knocking his arms forward in a singular motion until he was close to being off-balance in his seat, her smug expression emboldened by the raised brow. “You prefer young and illegal…we all know the real reason you beat the crap out of your step-daughter. She said <em>no</em> and you just couldn’t stand being shut down. Did the itch come back, Randall?”</p><p>                “I’ll show you an itch,” Randall pushed the edge of the table with his knee until the front legs of the chair lifted off the floor while he gestured toward his crotch and winked at her. “I’ll give your boss a damn good show—have a seat.”</p><p>                Elora used the end of her heel to shove the narrow space between his side and the chair, bringing him to the floor with a thud before standing over him with her arms crossed. “Oops…that’s my bad.”</p><p>                “You…god damn, fucking bitch…I should…” Randall’s backside was still in the seat, his shoulders firmly pressed against the top rail while the back post rested on the floor.</p><p>                “Get your ass up,” Elora pulled the photos together and closed the file, amused by his predicament as he rolled onto his side, landing in a heap on the floor. “You look ridiculous.”</p><p>                “She’s going to be a real handful,” Carisi had been dotting between each interrogation as he walked up to the window, a flustered look on his face as he straightened his tie. “You sure she should be in there alone with him?”</p><p>                “He’s lucky he only got knocked over in that chair,” Olivia wouldn’t have admitted it out loud but the way Elora conducted herself was just enough intensity to teeter close to the ledge, to where the point of no return was no more than a breath away. “She’s pushed enough to make him admit that he owns a white van and has an affinity for physical violence…openly propositioning Elora is a bonus.”</p><p>                Randall’s voice was strained as he barely got to his knees before Elora shoved the chair toward the wall, the crack repeating within the concrete as it hit. “I want my lawyer.”</p><p>                Elora gathered the file before opening the door, leaving Randall to collect himself as he reached for the chair at least five feet away. “I was just starting to have a little fun…please tell me we have enough from what I got to at least get a search warrant?”</p><p>                “I’m going to pretend like I didn’t just watch you intimidate a suspect, Caruso,” Carisi teased, watching Randall sweat as he climbed back onto the chair like an incapable child. “He gave you enough to get a search of the van, bare minimum…I’ll go see which judge I can sweet talk into more for the open threat to a Special Victims Unit detective and a sexual invitation to that same detective.”</p><p>                “I’m always on my best, twisted little behavior, Carisi,” Elora said, a hint of a cheeky grin hiding on her lips as she thumbed through the file again. “How is Fin doing with my nervous, bad little friend who just won’t come clean about his van purchase?”</p><p>                “Oh, more of the same rambling about only walking to work or riding a bicycle,” Olivia said while Carisi made a quick exit, her focus on Randall. “Fin’s patience is hanging by a thread and we’re no closer to getting to a solid lead than when we started these interrogations.”</p><p>                “Randall may have lawyered up but I’m starting to think that Seth might be good for a little extra push,” Elora leaned against the frame, the rigidity of the wood digging into the center of her spine. “If you know what I mean?”</p><p>                “Seth seems weak enough to play right into the charming, slightly pushy, two women routine,” Olivia pulled Seth’s file back to the top, making the handoff with the remainder to Elora. “Fin can watch for markers.”</p><p>                “Pushy?” Elora followed her toward the sound of Fin making very little progress with Seth, a grin perched on her lips. “I prefer the term <em>sternly convincing</em>.”</p><p>                Olivia chuckled as she tapped on the glass to get Fin’s attention, a flood of old memories snapping at attention as she could almost see her face in Elora’s. “I’ll have to remember that for when I’m contemplating the use of a cattle prod to get weekly and monthly paperwork out of the team.”</p><p>                “Am I getting subbed out for the newbie?” Fin was frustrated and his reaction wasn’t unjust as he crossed his arms, the curve between his eyebrows deepening as the consternation set in.</p><p>                “No, you’re going to supervise your boss and the newbie,” Olivia flexed her mental muscles as she handed over the files, switching them out for the one in Fin’s hand. “Don’t let it go straight to your head.”</p><p>                “Oh, see, now that’s just unfair play,” Fin rolled his eyes as Olivia reached for the door handle, the sarcasm rolling off his tongue. “Guy doesn’t stand a chance against that.”</p><p>                “Detective Caruso—how much longer do I have to be here? I’ve answered all of your questions and I think I’d like to go home,” Seth was stammering as Olivia let Elora into the room first, his discomfort visible as he shifted in his chair and tried to avoid making full eye contact.</p><p>                “Seth, Seth, Seth…we’ve been over this, it’s Elora and you’ve been giving Sergeant Tutuola a rough time. That’s not polite,” Elora palmed the back of his seat and listened to him suck a puff of air into his lungs, the panic rising. “I had to bring my Captain in to keep an eye on you because you’ve been misbehaving.”</p><p>                Seth’s eyes darted up at Olivia and then back down at his own hands as his thumbs continued to twiddle anxiously, the stutter increasing. “Detective Tutuola scares me. He said I’m lying and I’m not lying…I didn’t misbehave. I don’t know why I’m here and I don’t know what I did wrong.”</p><p>                “A white lie is still a lie, Seth,” Elora took a photo from Olivia’s outstretched hand and slid it in front of Seth’s line of sight, lowering her voice as she leaned down with her index perched along the center of the photo. “Why do you keep telling me that you don’t have a van? Your name is on the paperwork for this van and this is a photo of it in front of your house.”</p><p>                The pause was entirely too long. Seth was working every facial muscle as he let the question whirl around in his mind. He lacked intent but he was doing his best to keep his lips closed. It was as though he had something to prove by keeping quiet. Olivia narrowed her stare and hovered; the motherly posture intimidating as he kept his eyes glued to the metal finish. They both could hear his stomach groan as the unified front began to crumble his resolve.</p><p>                “Are we making you uncomfortable?” Olivia tapped her fingers across the cool steel and watched him flinch. “If you’ve got nothing to hide then answering Elora’s question should be very easy for you. The discomfort is starting to look like guilt.”</p><p>                “No, it’s not that,” Seth sucked in a breath of air, reacting much like a child in mid-scold as he looked up at her for only a moment.</p><p>                “Then, enlighten us,” Olivia was doing a fair amount of moving, making him even less capable of sitting still as he chewed his lip until it was raw. “It’s very apparent that you’re hiding something and you’ve had too many chances already, to tell the truth.”</p><p>                “You know, Seth, I’ve been really kind so I’m going to ask you one more time,” Elora was in his personal bubble, her voice low and unnervingly calm. “Your name is on that van...why? Who bought it? Who would put your name on the paperwork?”</p><p>                “I’ve tried to tell you, that van doesn’t belong to me,” Seth was perturbed and panicked as he shook his head feverishly, trying to evade Elora’s invasion of his space. “My brother bought a van and told me that it’s for the business. I didn’t buy a van. I don’t drive—I haven’t in a long time.”</p><p>                “What did I just tell you about lying?” Elora smacked her hand on the table and elevated her tone just enough, making him jump and audibly gasp as he stared up at her. “This white van belongs to you, Seth, and you’re still denying it in front of Captain Benson.”</p><p>                “I’m not lying, Elora,” Seth’s index was next to her splayed fingers, pointing at the back of the van in the photo, her name coming out like a plea. “My brother bought a van. I didn’t buy a van.”</p><p>                “So the van purchased in your name belongs to your brother?” Olivia moved from a stoic stance on the other side of the table and matched Elora’s as she nonchalantly slid a photo of Emily in front of him. “Where is Emily, Seth?”</p><p>                “The van? My <em>brother’s</em> van? Who is <em>Emily</em>?” Seth was raising his voice, the timbre pitchy and frenzied as he shoved his chair back, eluding both of them. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me. Do I need a lawyer? I think I need a lawyer.”</p><p>                Olivia had a wry smile hiding on her lips as she pulled the images from the table and slipped them into the manilla, taking the lead for the door as Elora chewed the inside of her cheek. Time had stopped being an ally but Elora’s new boss was more than a little optimistic as they joined Fin in the space just outside the interrogation room. Elora held back the urge to slam the door; her opportunity to squeeze a little more information from a potential suspect all but evaporated as he mentioned the possibility of needing a lawyer. Seth might’ve been a little bit weak-minded but he was smart enough to know the difference between normal line of questioning and the suspicious kind, much to their chagrin. Patience had been a virtue but the promise that Elora had made to Emily’s mother was weighing on her as she exhaled a long, pensive breath and made eye contact with Sergeant Tutuola.</p><p>                “Okay, I’ll be the first to say it,” Fin crossed his arms, trapping the stack of files against his ribs while he furrowed his brow in Elora’s direction. “You’ve got a set of balls, newbie.”</p><p>                “Oh, I’m just getting started, Fin,” Elora smiled, her willful side peeking through as she elevated a single eyebrow and cocked her head to the side just a smidge. “I’m inclined to believe, though, that we just got a lot more out of our little friend in there than could even begin to realize…Am I right, Captain?”</p><p>                “Oh yes, a lot more,” Olivia nodded as she made eye contact with Elora, that confidence radiating from her brown eyes as she made the proclamation. “Get Carisi to make a second request for a warrant and see about bringing in the brother to explain the necessity for forging someone else’s name on a title for a vehicle purchase. The result just may lead to finding our missing girl.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes by:<br/>Tony Robbins<br/>Ricky Skaggs</p><p>Cate, thank you so much for reading through this. Your insight and help had been insanely appreciated.</p><p>I hope everyone loves this third chapter. It has been such a labor of love and I am anxious to get on to the second case once this one is done. Please kudo and comment if it tickled your fancy! Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Disclosure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Two suspects, two vans, two warrants, and a little girl with the clock running out. The team races to discover clues that will lead to the safe return of Emily Martin.</p>
<p>“Do not be afraid; our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.” -Dante Alighieri</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapters may contain descriptions of violence, sexual assault, assault on a minor, and the death associated—depictions are not meant to trigger or otherwise damage readers.<br/>Proceed with caution.</p>
<p>dis·clo·sure /disˈklōZHər/<br/>the action of making new or secret information known.</p>
<p>"a judge ordered the disclosure of the government documents"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The aim is to balance the</em>
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  <em>Terror of being alive with</em>
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  <em>The wonder of being alive.</em>
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<p>-Carlos Castaneda</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The stuttered buzzing of Olivia’s cell phone had been one of those unwelcomed distractions for the team as the bouts of quiet went in and out like the tide. Olivia was in the corner, glancing at the screen of her phone for the fifth time in under an hour. Her smile suffered as she peered at the name across the ID, refusing to answer the call. She’d already gotten caught three times by Carisi and twice by Fin, but her Sergeant knew better than to bother asking. They had bigger things to worry about. The phone vibrated again and Elora met a familiar look from her boss as she pressed her lips together, redistributing the soft coat of gloss across her lips. It was embarrassing for Olivia but no one was holding it against her, despite how much she wanted to chuck the phone against the wall.</p>
<p>                “You good?” Elora bobbed a tea bag into a piping hot cup of water as she walked past Olivia, keeping her voice low.</p>
<p>                “Yeah, it’s just texts from my son’s nanny,” Olivia was willfully lying and it was obvious as she hid the screen. “Nothing serious.”</p>
<p>                Elora nodded even though she knew that response was a load of shit. The unintentional profiling of her boss’s body language had given away more than intended in mere seconds. It wasn’t the right time, however, to address the repetition of Captain Olivia Benson’s mystery caller. As much as Elora wanted to delve deeper, there was no entitlement to press the issue. It wouldn’t have lent any sort of assist in gaining Olivia’s trust. Olivia muted the phone entirely and pushed it into her hip pocket as Elora slid onto the chair at her desk. The stretching of the truth and Elora’s willingness to accept it bridged a gap as another brick in Olivia’s carefully constructed wall came crashing down.</p>
<p>                Somewhere, at the back of the seasoned Captain’s mind, though, she couldn’t help but feel the familiar burn of exposure.</p>
<p>                “Both attorneys are here for their clients—and neither one seem to be very pleased with being made to wait,” One of the probationary officers came into the room, a stack of paperwork held against her chest. “Should I see them to the interrogation rooms while you’re on the phone?”</p>
<p>                “Nobody made them wait,” Fin rolled his eyes and nodded in her direction, unamused with the cluster fuck that had been unfolding since the morning began. “Let them into the rooms but don’t let them leave…bury them in a stack of paperwork.”</p>
<p>                “Understood,” She had a smile on her face before making her way into the hall, disappearing around the corner as Fin’s instructions weren’t falling on deaf ears, intimating that they’d been said before.</p>
<p>                “You know we really can’t keep holding them here,” Olivia had one of those expressions on her face as she tilted her head and smiled, the jostling on the phone as Carisi was muttering into the air.</p>
<p>                “They won’t know that,” Fin shrugged his shoulders and let out a chuckle. “They’ll assume the paperwork is a formality.”</p>
<p>                “Until it isn’t,” Olivia muttered, hiding the grin. “Underestimating their attorneys?”</p>
<p>                “Not at all,” Fin stretched his arms behind his head, leaning back. “I’m anticipating the duplication of paperwork by more than one officer who <em>misplaced</em> the original set.”</p>
<p>                “Aces,” Elora crossed her legs and leaned against the desk, tempted to yell as she took a drink of her tea. “Carisi, can you focus for me right now or do I need to repeat what you were just asked?”</p>
<p>                “No, I heard you but I’m confused about a reason why you need a second warrant…why are you sending me back inside to ask another favor?” Carisi was confused as Elora sat on her desk, the phone on speaker in front of Olivia and Fin, a pause as a horn honked in the background. “You gotta give me something better to go on than a hunch or a loose theory.”</p>
<p>                “Seth Wallace’s brother has a van that matches our description and it was purchased under Seth’s name instead of his own. I don’t know about you, but that’s awfully fishy,” Olivia leaned against the edge of the desk, her fingers fiddling with the cord coming out of the phone. “Longshots aside, we’re running out of time, Carisi. Two shots at this are better than none.”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, yeah, okay, you’re right, but the amount of wheel greasing you’re about to make me do to get this…” Carisi’s confusion turned to unamused frustration as the sound of a door-knocking back into place echoed in the squad room. “Going to get the sideways glances and told that I’m running out of favors.”</p>
<p>                “Don’t act like you’re not up for the challenge,” Elora chastised him and glanced at the well-mapped board across the room, scrutinizing it a little more as she listened to the rain pelt against the windows. “You have one of those <em>can do</em> ties on today, bud.”</p>
<p>                “Olivia, you’ve got yourself a real witty addition to the squad over there,” Carisi was chuckling on the other end of the line, the chatter of officials around him as he lowered his voice. “That’s a trait that could prove to be a real problem depending on who you talk to.”</p>
<p>                “Well, she’ll fit right in with the other sharp wits around here. Sarcasm doesn’t bother me,” Olivia rolled her eyes and caught a sideways glance from Fin as he stood at the edge of the lacquer topped desk.</p>
<p>                “Of course you’re not bothered,” Fin had a wry smile, his dry wit bleeding through as he made eye contact with his Captain. “You practically invented the art form.”</p>
<p>                “In another life with an entirely different set of circumstances,” Olivia aimed the manila at him, half swatting him with it as she stood up straight. “During a time when I didn’t have to be the boss and clean up every mess.”</p>
<p>                “Not to interrupt this little party but you might want to make a call to get Amanda and Kat awake, ready to execute one of two,” Carisi broke through the moment of reminiscence and cleared his throat. “I’m going into chambers and I should have this second warrant in no time at all—I’ll call back when I do.”</p>
<p>                “You should listen to me more often, Sonny,” Elora picked up the receiver and pulled the call off of speaker, prepping to hang up. “Never underestimate the <em>can do</em> tie.”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, yeah, don’t go running away from the phone any time soon,” Carisi didn’t wait for the affirmative as he hung up on his end, allowing Elora to set the receiver back down on the switch hook.</p>
<p>                “Amanda is going to be jumping into that OT again,” Fin already had his cell out, readying it to dial. “Captain, we’re going to have to figure out who you want in pairing arrangements…”</p>
<p>                “Everyone is going to be dipping into OT thanks to this case,” Olivia had her phone in her palm, thumb across the display as she started to call Kat while she paced the open floor and glanced over at Fin. “We’ll think about the partner pairings once this case is done with. Elora doesn’t even have everyone’s cell phones programmed into her phone.”</p>
<p>                Elora went to the board, pulling a cap off of one of the dry erase markers, scrawling between two vans and two men on the board. “Which one of you is the fucking ace in the hole?”</p>
<p>                “…Yeah, I know I woke you up, Rollins, but we’re waitin’ on a second search warrant and we need two teams to do it,” Fin was getting the riot act from Amanda as he watched Elora start a checklist underneath both photographs. “…Just get your ass in and I’ll make sure you get caffeinated.”</p>
<p>                “I’ve got this sneaking suspicion that I’m going to get shot or bitten by that one,” Elora indicated Amanda as Fin joined her at the board, busily filling up the bottom section with notations. “Either way, this is one of those first days I won’t soon forget.”</p>
<p>                “Her bark is worse than her bite but don’t tell her I said that,” Fin was mystified by the level of energy that Elora was pouring into the case. “Has anyone told you that you’re thorough?”</p>
<p>                “Is that a polite way of telling me that I overdo it?” Elora took a step back and stared at the lists, chewing on the inside of her lip as she studied the differences and the similarities between each side. “Part of my background in psychology was a theoretical application. I marked the subtle differences between each type of criminal, separating the heightened exposure that would identify serial killers, rapists, and pedophiles from your average petty thief or batterer. The model led to the apprehension of a trafficking ring that had been in operation for nearly ten years.”</p>
<p>                “With a skillset like that, you could’ve been in the FBI or away from the NYPD. Hell, sounds like you could have started a special ops task force,” Olivia slid her phone back into her pocket, the notion of Elora’s intellect hitting her like a bat to the knees as she stood next to her. “Why stay in local law enforcement?”</p>
<p>                “It’s…complicated,” Elora clammed up, the first sign of an ache creeping in as she held her palm to her cheek and let her eyes pass over the board another time.</p>
<p>                Olivia nudged her, repeating Elora’s phrasing back. “You good?”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, I’m good,” Elora just might’ve been a better liar than Olivia but she might’ve had a little more time to perfect the mask that she had to wear as she nodded gently. “Is Kat on her way?”</p>
<p>                “She is,” Olivia could hear the change in Elora’s voice and knew that it was the first sign of something deeper from her new recruit as she made eye contact with her. “I’m going to have Fin serve one warrant with Kat and Amanda while you and I will serve the other. It’ll be curious how we fair with serving a dual warrant on Seth and his brother—This should be interesting and illuminating.”</p>
<p>                “Expecting to see some flaws, Captain?” Elora was partially joking but her time at a desk had her on edge as she elevated her eyebrows and took photos of the board to mark on her phone. “I mean, it’s been a while.”</p>
<p>                “Not exactly,” Olivia respected the question as she nudged her arm with her elbow and went toward her office, a wry grin on her lips. “I’m just curious as to which member of the team you are going to play better in the sandbox with.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>1:30 PM</p>
<p>Residence of Randall “Ox” Parker</p>
<p>1045 Morris Ave #2B</p>
<p>Bronx, NY</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The drive might’ve been pleasantly quiet until the borderline impulsiveness of Amanda Rollins began to radiate to the surface. She wasn’t good at hiding discontent or displeasure and she’d done a fair amount of fidgeting since the seatbelt clicked into place. It wasn’t that they had someone new at work; it was that Carisi seemed to connect with them without batting an eye. It was driving her to the border of insanity. It was also making her wonder why no one else seemed as bothered by Elora Caruso as she was. It couldn’t boil down to simple jealousy.</p>
<p>                That was normally a concept that was directed at her. It couldn’t possibly be the other way around.</p>
<p>                “So, what’s your vibe on the new detective, Fin?” Amanda broke the silence as the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head, the mistrust bleeding through in her tone, as they peeled around the corner toward Morris Avenue. “You’ve gotten to spend a little time gauging her…”</p>
<p>                “Oh, don’t put that on me, Rollins,” Fin could see right through her as he shook his head, his hands on the wheel as he glanced at her then at Kat in the rearview. “Don’t you start, either, or I’ll pull this car over and you two can serve this warrant without me.”</p>
<p>                “I didn’t say a single shit, Fin,” Kat was a little pensive but the coffee had done the trick to shake the collywobbles loose as she kept her eyes on the signage while taking note of Amanda’s change in demeanor. “...I mean, she seems like she’s going to be a favorite real fast. That’s all I’ll say.”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, I noticed,” Amanda wasn’t talking about Olivia as she had the banter etched in her mind between Carisi and Elora, fully wreaking havoc on her frustration addled consciousness. “Come on, Fin…you know Liv is going to pair her up with me. I want to know what I’m up against.”</p>
<p>                “Christ, Rollins, you can’t have an instant trust issue with the new recruit even if she does seem a little too good to be true,” Kat laughed, the energy in the car more than a little tense as the terse tone from Amanda captured her attention.</p>
<p>                “I didn’t say anything about an issue, Kat,” Amanda was testy as she held back the urge to go into a diatribe with the sharp inhale of a deep breath. “I just want to know what I’m in for.”</p>
<p>                “Keeping it strictly professional, here,” Fin caught a sideways glance from Amanda as he cleared his throat and pulled along the curb while the rain continued to pelt the windshield. “Caruso is cerebral and comes from a psychology background but she’s got a sarcastic streak. Isn’t afraid to push every button and she had both of our suspects in a weird spot after talking to her.”</p>
<p>                “Yet, here we are, prepping to serve one of two warrants?” Kat waited until the engine was off to open the door, letting in the onslaught of rain as she squinted at the chill in the air. “Sounds like she knows her shit.”</p>
<p>                “I mean, she’s got the highest rank out of all of us except for Fin and the Captain, she should <em>know her shit</em>,” Amanda was on a roll as she got out of the car, following them along the sidewalk until they got closer to the sandstone and dingy eggshell building with two doors and multiple apartments. “I’m not throwing a party for her when she’s supposed to be on the ball.”</p>
<p>                “You could cut the newbie a break and let her get her bearings with the group before deciding if she needs to be tossed off the top of a building,” Fin had his paperwork ready, the black bars on the windows of the ground level unit peeking out from the edge of the stairs as they gained a little distance. “Looks like the Ox lives in one of those converted homes—get the team ready to assist in the search or stop a runner, if need be.”</p>
<p>                “On it,” Kat was on her phone, slowing her pace to be just behind them to keep the conversation away from the potential of prying ears.</p>
<p>                “How long ago did Randall leave the precinct?” Amanda took the step down to the door, knocking on the surface as she stood off to one side. “Randall Parker, NYPD, open the door, search warrant!”</p>
<p>                “His attorney was quick to get him out of there about twenty-five minutes before getting that second warrant finalized,” Fin nodded and gave the door a couple more solid knocks, rolling his eyes as he could hear the shuffling from inside. “Come on, Randall, it’s Sergeant Tutuola again! You knew we were comin’ down, open the door!”</p>
<p>                “You know I have an attorney and can’t come in here, Sarge,” Randall’s voice was muffled behind the door, the beeps of his cell phone going as he was dialing the attorney. “I can’t help it that my off-color jokes offended <em>that bitch</em> Detective Caruso enough to knock me on my ass. I should sue for police brutality.”</p>
<p>                “On second thought, maybe I will throw her a party,” Amanda was impressed and disappointed in the same breath as she crossed her arms and caught a smirk from Fin as they pounded on the door for the third time.</p>
<p>                “You know I wouldn’t come here unprepared, Randall,” Fin was working the volume, attracting the attention of the neighbors as he balled up his fist and gave the door another strong thud as he shifted his weight from the left to right foot. “The warrant is explicit and I’m getting impatient—either open the door or all of your neighbors are going to see the boom team knocking your door down and I know you can’t afford the repairs, fool!”</p>
<p>                The door opened, revealing Randall as he stood in the entry with an exasperated expression, phone up to his ear with the attorney talking in his ear. “I did my time. You ain’t got nothing on me and all you’re gonna find is a lot of the same…yeah, they’re here.”</p>
<p>                “We’ll just see about that,” Amanda put on her best, bright smile as she pushed her way through, earning a healthy grunt from Randall as his back bumped against the wall behind him. “I heard you’re not too fond of the ladies, Randall.”</p>
<p>                “I like ladies plenty,” Randall tried to follow her as Fin showed him the search warrant, stopping him from moving forward. “I just like them when they’re quiet…polite…not like that Caruso. I’d like to show her a thing or two about manners.”</p>
<p>                “That’s not going to work for either one of the women currently standing inside of your apartment, Mister Parker,” Kat finally graced them with her presence, ushering in four CSU investigators with kits prepped for a full-scale search of his apartment. “I tend to bite when little worms try to teach me a lesson.”</p>
<p>                CSU had no intention of waiting to see the show as the modest group of techs went straight to work looking through drawers and opening every cupboard in the place. The sound of paperwork shifting and kits opening started the domino effect as each team member began the painstaking task of looking for anything and everything that would mean something. It wouldn’t take long to turn the entire unit upside down and there was a moment of panic on Randall’s face as his eyes glassed over. He didn’t know if he should bolt or throw hands. Fight or flight. Fin had suspicions on where Randall’s head was planning to flip as he glanced at his knuckles while he flexed his right hand into a fist.</p>
<p>                “There’s not enough testosterone in here and too much <em>feminazi</em> bullshit floating around in my fucking apartment,” Randall was getting heated as he turned and got a little too close to Kat as he stood face-to-face with her, breathing directly into her personal bubble. “Did the NYPD offer up a training course for turning a bunch of bitches into bitches with guns?”</p>
<p>                “Randall, you’re going to want to just take a step back or listen to your attorney screaming in your ear,” Fin could already tell he was losing his grip as Kat maintained her footing, a wry smile plastered on her face as she tilted her head to one side. “I’ll put you in cuffs and haul your ass to lockup without blinking, buddy.”</p>
<p>                “Sergeant, I’m not sweating Randall’s peacock show,” Kat kept her arms at her sides, the flippant attitude just flamboyant enough to make a vein pop out in the middle of Randall’s forehead as he seethed. “Small men tend to think that a feisty, capable female is beneath him, but in reality, he wouldn’t know what to do with one. It’s why he likes to overpower weak, little girls and pop their jaws from the socket. Isn’t that right, Randall?”</p>
<p>                “You fucking bitch,” Randall’s voice came out as a growl as he made an unintelligent maneuver as he took a step back from Kat, swinging at her with his fist balled, hoping to catch the side of her face.</p>
<p>                Kat barely flinched as she caught Randall by the wrist, swung him against a nearby bookshelf, and proceeded to restrain him while knocking an entire row of manuals and old novels onto the floor, the cell phone flinging out of his hand in the process. “See what I mean, Randall? I don’t play around and now that you just took a swing at me, I’m going to haul your ass back to my precinct while we finish turning your apartment upside down looking for your stash of goodies that would help you keep a defenseless, little girl hidden away so you can torture her.”</p>
<p>                “Oh yeah? Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,” Randall growled as he struggled, while Kat gestured for the backup to come and grab him. “You’re goddamn lucky I don’t feel like making an example out of you.”</p>
<p>                “Don’t you wish you could be so lucky?” Kat gave him a light slap to his cheek as she relinquished the control of his cuffs to the two officers that had come in from outside. “Get him out of here.”</p>
<p>                “Speaking of searches,” Amanda nodded in Randall’s direction before they could pull him through the door completely. “Where’s the van, Randall?”</p>
<p>                Randall went stone-faced, glaring at the trio as they stood between him and the members of the Crime Scene Unit investigational team as they continued to comb through the single bedroom apartment. The sneer formed on his lips and another order was given as he was pulled through the narrow doorway, into the rain. It piled on the mounting stress as Amanda ran her fingers through her hair and watched through the gaps in the bars at the window as they guided him into the backseat of a patrol car. Kat hadn’t quite dropped the subject as she scoped out keys hanging from a hook near the door, dangling along with about a dozen others as the breeze made them dance.</p>
<p>                “What kind of money would you want to put on it that this douchebag just has the van on the street?” Kat gathered the keys and wiggled them in front of Fin and Amanda, an inquisitive look appearing on her face.</p>
<p>                Fin took a step out of the apartment and let his eyes scan along the street until a streak of white came into focus a couple of houses down. “I don’t think we have to put any money on it at all…the guy got lucky with parking.”</p>
<p>                “Better give Liv a call and let her know that we’re about to rip apart a van while we sift through this mess of an apartment,” Amanda had her phone out as she stepped toward the sidewalk, the van in her line of sight.</p>
<p>                They were close to a resolution and they could smell it like the rain in the air.</p>
<p>               </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Residence of Seth &amp; Donald Wallace</p>
<p>1318 Clay Ave</p>
<p>Bronx, NY</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “He took a swing at Kat?” Olivia was on the sidewalk already with Elora, her team approaching from up the block after exiting the unmarked, “I bet that went over well…Now that he’s in custody, turn everything upside down until something pops out at you.”</p>
<p>                “Did they find anything?” Elora’s jacket was slicked down with rain as she took the true backup position and stood at a point of view angle next to Olivia, assuring that she’d be able to see the house and the street at the same time. “The van?”</p>
<p>                “Searching the apartment and the van right now,” Olivia gestured toward the group, tilting the phone away from her mouth as her eyes darted toward the front door of the house for a moment. “Elora, have the crew prepare for a multi-level search and divide them up into teams. It’s going to be a rough one.”</p>
<p>                “Officers, I need you to separate into three teams. The first team will be working the primary residence, the second will be in the apartment level of the house, and the third will be in the van,” Elora hadn’t given a scene breakdown speech in ages but it came naturally as she started moving them into their new designations before returning to Olivia as she hung up the phone. “They’re prepped and ready.”</p>
<p>                “Feeling any field rust, Elora?” Olivia readied the warrant as they approached the stairs while the wind picked up, carrying a stinging rain against their cheeks.</p>
<p>                “Less than I was anticipating, actually,” Elora shook her head and held onto the railing as she followed up the steps, the squish of dead leaves beneath their feet with every move they made. “I know that the team doesn’t have a reason to put their faith in someone new but this is my second chance to right a few wrongs. I take this opportunity seriously and it’s more than a job to me.”</p>
<p>                “That sounds familiar,” Olivia started to knock at the door, the scattered sounds of a loud television coming from inside between each heavy rap. “Donald Wallace, NYPD, we have a search warrant! Open the door!”</p>
<p>                “What sounds familiar?” Elora took over with the fist to the finish on the door, giving a backhanded couple of whacks that shook the hinges a little. “Donald Wallace, answer the door, NYPD, we have a search warrant for the premises and we don’t want to have to knock down the door to execute it!”</p>
<p>                “Jesus, can I put on some pants?” Donald Wallace’s voice was nearly opposite of his brother, oozing confidence, and volume as the sound of thumps and thuds came from the other side. “Hold on, fuck…”</p>
<p>                “That it’s more than a job to you. Just don’t let it consume you or you’ll find yourself living with a lot of regrets,” Olivia had heard those words uttered toward her a time or two and knew how contrived they could be as she rolled her eyes at the door again. “Donald, I’m not going to warn you again, we have a search warrant and you need to open the door or we’ll be taking the battering ram to it and let ourselves in.”</p>
<p>                The door went flying open as the rush of heat met the frigid air from outside as Donald Wallace’s barely completed the act of zipping his pants. “I said I was coming…didn’t think you’d want me answering the door with no Goddamn pants on.”</p>
<p>                “Your attire, or lack thereof, is your business, Mister Wallace,” Olivia wasn’t amused as she held up the paperwork, the official seal aimed at his face. “I’m sure your brother’s attorney reached out to you the second we obtained this search warrant. We’ve been granted permission to search these premises and your brother’s apartment downstairs along with the van that you purchased under Seth’s name. Do you understand?”</p>
<p>                “Wait, why do you have to search my house? I have nothing to do with my imp of a brother and his bullshit,” Donald was already playing the blame game, shifting the focus back to Seth despite what they already knew about the situation. “I own three vans. They are all for my business…and not a single one of them was purchased illegally.”</p>
<p>                “You just keep on telling yourself that, Donald,” Elora rolled her eyes and gave the signal to the first group as she renewed eye contact with Donald. “You might want to get your attorney back on the phone, though, just in case we find anything that might be a little questionable to your…reputation.”</p>
<p>                “Honey, what in the hell is going on?” Donald’s wife came out of the bedroom carrying a crying infant in her arms, her tank top and sweats showing the signs of spit-up as she held a pacifier with her free hand. “I have cops in my nursery!”</p>
<p>                “Seth screwed up, Susan, and now they think I’m involved in his personal shit,” Donald was ready to rip his hair out as he caught sight of a narrowed glare from his very pissed-off wife as the pacifier finally connected with the mouth of her sleepy baby, quelling the wailing. “Call that fucking attorney and tell him what the fuck is going on…now!”</p>
<p>                Olivia made eye contact with Elora as Donald’s comments rubbed both of them the wrong way. He was willing to push his brother right under the bus even with his diminished mental capacity, painting a picture as if Seth was somehow pulling a fast one. Elora and Olivia mutually shook heads as the illustrated sequence began to unfold while Susan swayed frenetically with the baby as she went for the phone. Utter chaos was beginning to unfold and they’d only just begun to tap into the surface as the CSU officers filled the space and left no stone unturned. To say that it wasn’t satisfying to watch Donald’s emotions flicker from one state to the next would have been bending the truth just a bit.</p>
<p>                “Captain, Seth Wallace doesn’t want to let us into the lower level apartment without Detective Caruso,” One of the team members from the second group poked their head into the doorway and interrupted the scene, his gloved hands sticking out like sore thumbs as the bright blue caught the light. “No one has gotten in yet and we might have to knock the door down.”</p>
<p>                “We knew this one was going to be messy,” Olivia shrugged her shoulders and handed over the individual document for Seth’s apartment as she nodded toward the door.</p>
<p>                “Are you sure?” Elora hesitated as she held the warrant between her fingers. “Seth can’t be dictating a search warrant or the protocol.”</p>
<p>                “I’ve got more than enough backup in here and we’re not going to make any headway if we have to knock Seth’s door down and cause more chaos than we need when he’s been receptive to you,” Olivia shook her head and gestured toward the door as chaos began to unfold with the ongoing search. “Walkie if you need me.”</p>
<p>                Elora followed the officer out into the elements, taking the lead as she went down the stairs toward the entrance to the lower level converted apartment. Seth’s frantic yells could be heard from the landing and she could tell it wasn’t anger but fear fueling them as she came to the door. There wasn’t much of a chance that he couldn’t be heard from down the street. He was stuttering, repeating her name, and that he wouldn’t let them in as the officers cleared a path for her to be seen through the peephole. She cleared her throat and put on a smile as she rapped her knuckles against the blue finish as the rain-drenched her hair.</p>
<p>                “Go away, I said I wanted to talk to Detective Caruso,” Seth was muffled as she drew in a breath and glanced at the welcome mat below her feet.</p>
<p>                “Seth, you gotta open the door, buddy,” Elora was calm, collected, and rational as she called to him through the door, her eyes looking at the fisheye of the peephole. “I don’t want these officers to have to take down the door but they’ll do it if you don’t let them in.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t want them to break my stuff. I have things that I don’t want them to break. They’re important to me,” Seth had moments where his mind was well developed but this was not one of those times as his childlike side pushed through while his panic took over. “Will you make sure that they don’t break my stuff?”</p>
<p>                “If you open the door right now, I’ll make sure that they don’t damage anything while they conduct their search, Seth,” Elora knew that the assurance wasn’t unreasonable as she earned a collective nod from the team while the sound of the chain sliding across metal made her sigh gently. “That’s good, buddy…good.”</p>
<p>                The door opened and his tear-streaked face was a far cry from what had sat across from her in the interrogation room as he took a step backward, away from the harsh light of the fluorescent above his head. “I have nice things, Detective Caruso, and I don’t want to replace broken things. I know I have to follow the rules but I don’t want to replace broken things.”</p>
<p>                “It’s okay, Seth,” Elora nodded as she ushered her team inside while squeezing his shoulder, soothing him just enough to calm the repetition and the stuttering. “You know why we’re here and why we have to go through your belongings, right?”</p>
<p>                “You think I did something bad but I didn’t do anything bad. I know you don’t like lies, Detective Caruso,” Seth was nodding, almost reciting their prior interaction as the team began to search through every inch of his single bedroom converted basement apartment. “I keep it tidy. I don’t like a mess.”</p>
<p>                “You know you invoked and I can’t talk about this,” Elora shrugged her shoulders as the sporadic sounds of cupboard doors opening and closing intermixed with the shuffling of knick knacks on the shelves. “It might be in your best interest to consider calling that attorney, Seth.”</p>
<p>                Elora was impressed with CSU taking her seriously when she indulged Seth’s requests. If she didn’t know any better, her reputation with them had managed to stick. She made eye contact with one of the supervisorial techs and gave a nod of appreciation as he opened a dusting kit. They didn’t need to speak but he simply returned the gesture and continued to work. Sometimes, words didn’t need to be said. This was one of those occasions.</p>
<p>                “Donny said he’d take care of it,” Seth’s eyes were aimed at the floor as he fiddled with an umbrella as it rested in a bin beside his leg. “He said that this was nobody’s business and I needed to shut my mouth and keep my <em>God damn</em> head down.”</p>
<p>                “Seth, I’m not asking you this time,” Elora felt like she was talking to her seven-year-old niece as she stood in front of him and snapped her fingers inches from his face as she saw one of the officers start marking off a shelf with evidence labels. “Call an attorney…right now.”</p>
<p>                “Am I in trouble, Detective Caruso?” Seth asked as he held the phone between his fingers.</p>
<p>                Elora watched as markers two, three, and four went into three separate spots, the dread setting in as she realized they were finding evidence to be collected and cataloged as she bit down on her lip and started to nod. “Buddy, you might be…”</p>
<p>                Something wasn’t right about the situation as Elora moved forward, letting Seth make that call as one of the team members had a grim expression forming. This wasn’t her first tango at a crime scene but this was the first time she was taking pity on the suspect as she crossed her arms and placed herself strategically between him and the rest of the room. She wanted to believe she was doing it to spare his fragile psyche but it was also to catch a glimpse of the unfolding problem before them. Seth went outside, his voice carrying as he continued that call and opened the window for Elora to cross the room.</p>
<p>                “What did you find?” Elora knelt beside one of the guys and nudged him, capturing partial attention as he finished another photograph of a marker on the floor.</p>
<p>                “We’ve got a problem, Detective,” The tone of his voice raised an alarm as he opened the box in front of him. “This might be our guy.”</p>
<p>                Elora’s shoulders slumped as the top label of a Polaroid camera peeked out from the side and the delicate, rolled material of little, multi-colored socks stood out like sore thumbs amongst the various drywall tools and gear. Her stomach sank as the stripes and daisies stood out on one pair while another had pink polka dots that were worn off in sections. They hadn’t been washed. These were trophies and the scent of baby lotion and dirt from the insides of shoes still lingered as Elora glanced at Seth’s face as he stood at the window, phone up to his ear, cluelessness written in neon.</p>
<p>                “Bag it,” Elora stood and got on the walkie, her irritation mounting as she caught the questioning stare of Seth with his phone up against his cheek. “Captain, you’re going to want to come down here…”</p>
<p>                “Is it going south down there?” Olivia asked.</p>
<p>                Elora pushed the walkie, alleviating a squelch for a split-second as she licked her lips. “We’re going to have to make at least one arrest.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes by:<br/>Dante Alighieri<br/>Carlos Castaneda</p>
<p>As always, to Cate, thank you for looking these over for me. I appreciate you endlessly. </p>
<p>To the writer’s group, you’re fantastic. Thank you for the endless support.</p>
<p>Comments are always appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Splintered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Three suspects with ample motive and evidence…but only one knows where their missing girl is. Who is going to break first and will it be in time to find her?</p>
<p>“Most of us are pretty good at keeping promises to others and pretty bad at keeping promises to ourselves.” – Lawrence LeShan</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sub·ter·fuge<br/>/ˈsəbtərˌfyo͞oj/<br/>deceit used in order to achieve one's goal.<br/>"he had to use subterfuge and bluff on many occasions"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Warning: Chapters may contain descriptions of violence, sexual assault, assault on a minor, and the death associated; depictions are not meant to trigger or otherwise damage readers. Proceed with caution.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Promise is a big word.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It either makes something</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Or it breaks everything.</em>
</p>
<p>-Unknown</p>
<p> </p>
<p>3:00 PM</p>
<p>Special Victims Unit</p>
<p>16<sup>th</sup> Precinct, New York, NY</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “This is getting awfully thick and convoluted,” Olivia stared at the digital stills on their display next to the glass mapping, the sheer volume of information piling up in front of them. “All three of these guys have viable evidence against them?”</p>
<p>                “We’re waiting on DNA to come back on the hair and blood found in both vans,” Amanda was craning her neck until it popped, the wear setting in as she dropped a stack of paperwork onto the table in front of them. “The Polaroid isn’t much help—apparently, those cameras take essentially the same photograph virtually every time and Randall also had one.”</p>
<p>                “Before you ask, the ETA on the expediting the DNA is another hour and I got a very nasty look from Miller the second I opened my mouth,” Fin put a paper in front of Olivia and reached for a cup on the desk, taking a drink as Elora came back from the lounge. “How’s Emily’s mother doing?”</p>
<p>                “Nervous, frustrated, exhausted,” Elora crossed her arm and leaned against the filing cabinet closest to the desks, letting the pressure gather along her shoulders. “I made sure she had something to eat and more water—she fell asleep before she could even get a half of one of those slices of pizza down. Do our lovely contestants have their attorneys playing the game, yet?”</p>
<p>                “Carisi hasn’t come out of Interrogation Two yet and I’ve had to instruct Donald’s attorney to get back into Interrogation One three different times,” Olivia was rubbing the bridge of her nose to quell the onset of a migraine as the problems were piling up left and right, leaving little to no room for error while the window was closing for finding Emily. “I don’t remember the last time we had multiple suspects with viable, concrete evidence.”</p>
<p>                “The most glaring evidence has been the socks, though, we can’t just overlook that,” Kat tapped the labeled photograph on the board and circled the desks, her ponytail swaying with every step, a hint of hesitation in her voice as she watched Elora’s shoulders slump. “The exact number of socks corresponds with each one of the little girls that we didn’t get to in time plus Emily.”</p>
<p>                “Have we shown Amy any of these socks to see if they belonged to Emily?” Amanda looked palmed her cup of coffee, elevating it toward her lips to sip the steaming, hot liquid. “It might help speed things along.”</p>
<p>                Amanda was good at keeping things simple. Clinical, even. It was a quality that Olivia had come to rely on as stress began to run high. Times just like these. Olivia made eye contact with her and nodded; the appreciation was written on her face as she inhaled another deep, cleansing breath. It was painfully obvious that the team was so much more than a well-oiled machine. They were a family, in the most unconventional sense, and a part of Elora was feeling the pressure of being the intruder at the dinner table as she pressed her lips together and tucked the stray locks of hair behind her ear. She was wearing her black sheep label and the lack of confidence was becoming a little evident.</p>
<p>                “The long, black and white striped socks with the daisy accents are Emily’s,” Elora had her tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek as she nodded, eyes far away while she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I know it looks bad that I’m even suggesting this, but I don’t think Seth is good for these murders.”</p>
<p>                “Caruso, hunches around here are good to have but they’re often formulated by our own set of biases,” Amanda got a sideways, knowing look from Olivia as she captured their new team member’s attention with a squeeze of her shoulder. “When I say that these guys aren’t what they seem, it’s from watching them prove that they are exactly what you hope they aren’t.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t know if it’s a bias or if there’s something else buried underneath,” Elora was back on the flow chart like it was a source of comfort as the details flashed like bits of code. “Every part of this case is scattered in the wind…and there’s just one, small piece that isn’t screaming at us.”</p>
<p>                “The devil is in the details,” Amanda came up behind Elora and slid a file in front of her with photographs of each crime scene stacked inside before turning toward Fin. “What delightful attorneys do we get to interface with today?”</p>
<p>                The peace offering was met with a smirk as Elora nodded and thumbed through the five by sevens marked with dates and times. She considered it a sign of softened tension as she straightened her spine and elevated a brow. Olivia hid a thoughtful expression as she filled another cup with hot water. She needed the first glimmer of hope that Amanda wasn’t going to push every one of Elora’s buttons on the first day in the building. They were already spread thin—they couldn’t afford to lose her before she could even establish her sea legs. Even as she stood at the coffee pot, bobbing a tea bag, Olivia continued to study the mechanisms within the walls of the squad room. They were weary, a little broken, and there was something about Elora that had her remembering the days when she didn’t have to call the shots.</p>
<p>                “Murphy Anderson is working with Randall but I was under the impression that he only worked with corporate, white-collar movers and shakers that make closer to the six-figure kind of income,” Fin rolled his eyes as he noticed the names attached to the documents for counsel for their three suspects. “He’ll be a real peach.”</p>
<p>                “Anderson also likes a good blue-collar cover when he’s desperate for the appearance of a PR move,” Carisi came speeding out of the hall that led to the interrogation rooms, a frustrated grimace on his face as he straightened his tie. “What he just realized is he just signed up for an abundance of sexism, racism, and heavy use of the f-word all packaged with a side of child abuse.”</p>
<p>                “Sounds like he’s ready for a little poking and prodding?” Olivia tilted her head to the side and made eye contact with Carisi as he pilfered a cup of coffee. “I’d like Caruso and Rollins conducting Randall’s interrogation. Rollins, take lead and Caruso? Push every one of his tender little buttons like you did before.”</p>
<p>                “You got it, Liv,” Amanda was a little terse with her affirmation as she moved toward Carisi, burning a hole through him with a sideways stare as Elora followed.</p>
<p>                “I’m immediately regretting that decision,” Olivia waited until they had disappeared around the corner, the frustration evident as she forced air through her lips and looked over in Fin’s direction.</p>
<p>                “You know how Rollins gets when the boat is rocking,” Fin was Olivia’s best reassurance as he moved past her, glancing at a stack of papers while he continued. “Once she realizes that Caruso isn’t here to replace her, she’ll snap out of it.”</p>
<p>                “I need all of you, I don’t want to lose one warm body to gain another,” Olivia shook her head, frustration wearing on her nerves.</p>
<p>                They’d faced enough turmoil and loss, but trust hadn’t quite been an easy task for anyone to gain, especially with life dealing an unfair hand to each of them at some point or another. Olivia ran her thumb across each labeled bag with the little, delicate socks inside, sighing as she thought of each parent getting the worst news along with one still waiting on any word. It was enough to elicit anger as she glanced at the stairs toward the visitor’s area before moving back to the hall toward interrogation. Olivia raised her eyebrows and angled her chin toward Kat and Fin before going into the same direction, aiming on interrupting the brothers and their respective attorneys before things could continue to lag. It had already gotten away from them and they’d wasted precious time letting these men stall.</p>
<p>                “Fin, I’m going to have you and Kat interview Seth to see if you can coax anything more out of him,” Olivia was at the window as she looked in on Amanda and Elora in their interview with Randall and Murphy. “Carisi, you’re with me.”</p>
<p>                “Won’t that be playing with fire considering how well he’s been responding to Elora?” Fin elevated his brow, watching her as she moved along the wall inside of the interrogation room. “Not that she hasn’t gotten her fair share of information out of Randall on that same token…”</p>
<p>                “Pulling the comfort away from Seth could be exactly what he needs to do more talking and give up himself or his brother,” Olivia nodded in his direction as she stood at the end of the junction, the light above her blinking ever so slightly. “It doesn’t help they all bear a striking resemblance to the description we have from Emily’s mother.”</p>
<p>                “All of them are big men with bushy eyebrows,” Fin nodded and followed Kat toward Seth’s interrogation room as the sound of Randall’s voice carried while Amanda pushed the door shut.</p>
<p>                “What, did someone finally put a muzzle on you, Detective Caruso?” Randall was doing his best to chastise Elora as she leaned against the wall in Interrogation One, a deep grin forming on his lips as he sat next to his attorney. “I told you, you’re much prettier when you’re quiet.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, Randall, you didn’t learn a damn thing when your back was on the floor, did you?” Amanda shook her head and opened the file in front of her, flipping the photographs around toward him.</p>
<p>                “The hell are these?” Randall was angry in an instant as his eyes passed between each photo before glaring up at Elora as she studied him from the wall. “You did this…you planted all of this. I’m smarter than that.”</p>
<p>                “Randall, stop talking,” Murphy was perusing the photographs with an equal measure of intent as his client but, with twice the horror, as the markers in the back of his van spelled out a scene marred by torture. “I need to confer with my client, Detectives. I was not told this was being discussed and we need to have a moment, privately.”</p>
<p>                “Time is running out, Randall,” Elora went for the door; her eyes steadied on him as she opened it and stood in the doorway as Amanda joined her.</p>
<p>                “You sure do know how to rattle a guy without saying more than a sentence,” Amanda and Elora stood at the window, watching the exchange as Murphy and Randall scrambled inside. “I don’t know if that’s a gift or a curse.”</p>
<p>                “A little of both,” Elora laughed and crossed her arms as she turned her back to the window, craning her neck until it popped. “The second I know that a suspect has misogynistic tendencies, the quickest way to get under his skin is to defiantly look him in the eye—and smile as though you know every secret he’s ever had. I haven’t had to utilize that skill in quite some time.”</p>
<p>                “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of an asshole,” Amanda didn’t like swallowing her pride, but she saw a glimmer of something in Elora that she didn’t before as her smile lingered. “I don’t trust new people…especially when they come in with a massive educational background and could potentially be throwing it around like a—“</p>
<p>                “<em>Massive</em> dick?” Elora made a gesture with both hands that had Amanda rolling her eyes and stifling a laugh as they paced the hall. “Education doesn’t erase the last eighteen months of my life or make this job any less important to me. I don’t know which of the team I’ll end up tethered with at the end of the day, Amanda, but if it’s you…you gotta know that I have your back.”</p>
<p>                Amanda nodded and outstretched her hand, a soft smile hiding on her lips as Elora found a weak spot in her armor to push apart. “Fresh start, then? Truce?”</p>
<p>                “You’re corny, Amanda Rollins,” Elora shook her hand and slowly spun around to peek at the conversation in the interrogation room. “It’s a good thing that I enjoy some corny.”</p>
<p>                “That’s a characteristic I haven’t been able to add to my arsenal in quite some time,” Rollins was getting impatient as she glanced at the window, the pensive discussion getting heated as Randall seemed to be yelling at his attorney. “I know that Liv wants me to take the lead on this one but I’m getting the vibe that you’re going to get a lot more out of our sexist asshole in there than I will.”</p>
<p>                “You’re capable of telling him <em>no</em>, you’ll be able to more than sufficiently piss him off and it helps that you’re pretty,” Elora let out a laugh as Amanda was fussed over stray hair in her face. “Misogynistic men really get their thong spun when a woman out of their league starts putting them in their place.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t know about all that,” Amanda had been complimented before but it was something about having someone brand new say it without an ounce of condescension that had her off-kilter. “Most men aren’t capable of hearing the word <em>no</em>.”</p>
<p>                “Never underestimate your own beauty. People notice it and try to exploit it, especially with what we do,” Elora had been on that soapbox before and it was comfortable, even as she didn’t look Amanda in the eye to say it. “Modesty is one thing but don’t reduce what you are.”</p>
<p>                “Now that is utilizing some psychology and I have to remember it for my girls,” Amanda appreciated it and the words did dig deep as she turned her attention toward the glass as Murphy got up from his chair. “We got movement.”</p>
<p>                “Oooh, this should be intriguing,” Elora smirked and glanced over at Murphy as he peeked his head out at them, an uncomfortable expression written on his face. “Are you tired of your client already, Anderson? That didn’t take long.”</p>
<p>                “He wants to talk despite my advice to keep his mouth shut,” Murphy’s eyebrows went up as he shrugged his shoulders and swayed both arms toward Randall as he sat at the table alone. “Don’t think I won’t step in if you two ask the wrong questions, though.”</p>
<p>                “Murphy Anderson, you think you’re a pit bull but you’re just a chihuahua,” Amanda shook her head as she let Elora into the room first, staying face-to-face with the attorney to put him in his place. “We know where the line resides.”</p>
<p>                “I’ve got nothin’ to hide to a couple of bitch Detectives that should be at home tending to their babies and cleaning the house,” Randall had a wide grin as he leaned back in his chair and put his knees against the edge of the table, arrogance oozing from his pores as he made eye contact with Elora. “Ask your questions, girls.”</p>
<p>                “Girls, huh?” Elora smiled and looked over at Amanda, who equalized her expression as she sat down and opened the folder. “Randall, get your fucking knees off the table. Haven’t you learned your lesson after what happened earlier?”</p>
<p>                “I thought you were finally taking me seriously and being quiet, Detective Caruso?” Randall smacked his lips and tapped his knee, looking up at her as she paced the floor just feet from his back. “That invitation is still open.”</p>
<p>                “You wouldn’t know what to do with me if you had an instruction manual and assistance from a teleprompter, dumbass,” Elora laughed and knocked his knees down with her own, nearly knocking him over a second time as he tumbled forward toward the table. “Play games with me again. See what happens.”</p>
<p>                “Randall, I’m advising you, for the second time, not to speak,”  Anderson’s exasperation was beginning to show as his client’s enraged stare was aimed squarely at Elora, the line in the sand blurred as she white-knuckled the table. “Detective Caruso, I don’t need to remind you of the NYPD’s less-than-stellar record on brutality, do I?”</p>
<p>                “If you weren’t sitting here, she’d have my ass on this floor,” Randall rubbed the spot on his chest where it met the edge of the table, his voice ragged as the spray of spit cascaded from his lips. “Questioning whether or not she’s got the equipment that would make her a woman.”</p>
<p>                “Murphy, your client is a real winner,” Elora kept her eyes on Randall as the lack of amusement with his chauvinism only intensified with every word he spewed. “The anti-female rhetoric that you dish out, though, is the least inventive kind of crap I’ve heard in a long time.”</p>
<p>                “Speaking of anti-female rhetoric, Randall,” Amanda knew she had a window of opportunity as Elora had him with his metaphorical pants down as the anger brewed behind his eyes. “Where’d the blood in your van come from? The longer you lie, the worse you make this for yourself.”</p>
<p>                “What blood?” Randall was flippant as he looked at Amanda and shrugged his shoulders and sneered at her. “You two are bad a bluff—I clean that van on a regular basis. Even if there were bodily fluids, you wouldn’t find a trace.”</p>
<p>                Anderson’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the remark. “Randall…Jesus…Christ…”</p>
<p>                “You shut your trap and let me talk,” Randall aimed his index at Anderson’s nose, almost contacting his skin as Elora opened a file, spreading out photos in front of him one-by-one. “What in the fuck are those?”</p>
<p>                “These are a thousand reasons why you should’ve kept your fucking mouth shut and listened to your attorney,” Amanda pushed one of the photos a little closer, the blacklight shining into the back of a van in most of the images. “Elora, do you want to explain what these are?”</p>
<p>                “Absolutely,” Elora pulled the worst of the images toward Randall, leaning into his personal space, her voice low and to the point. “You used bleach with a chlorine agent, which left behind the presence of hemoglobin. All it took was a little luminol and the inside of your van lit up like a Christmas tree.”</p>
<p>                “Don’t open your mouth, Randall—you are treading, dangerously, on thin ice,” Anderson was at his wit’s end as his client already had his lips parted, hot air pushing forth in scattered bursts.</p>
<p>                “Seems like your client has something on his mind, Anderson,” Amanda cocked her head to the side while her index finger guided one of Emily’s photos forward, her tone cutting as she began tapping at the white border around it. “Just tell us where she is, Randall, and make it easier on yourself.”</p>
<p>                “You ain’t got nothin’ on me,” Randall slammed his hand on the table, the sweat forming along his brow as his eyes darted between them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>                “The longer it takes for us to find where you took her the more time the Assistant District Attorney is going to tack onto your list of potential charges,” Elora stared him down and watched as he leaned back to wipe the perspiration from his skin. “Did she fight too hard, Randall? Did this one make you work too hard and you couldn’t wait any longer to end it?”</p>
<p>                “Come on, Detective Caruso,” Anderson sat up a little straighter in his chair and glared in her direction. “This is ridiculous.”</p>
<p>                “If your client has nothing to worry about then he’d be doing a significantly better job of disproving the blood all over the inside of his van,” Elora refused to break eye contact with Randall as his jaw clenched and his knuckles went white in his lap. “You look a little nervous, Randall.”</p>
<p>                “I completely understand the discomfort you’re experiencing, Randall,” Amanda was already catching her drift as the panic was creeping into Randall’s disposition with the introduction of a fidget and a throat-clearing cough. “I’d be pretty damn nervous if I were the number one suspect in multiple child molestations that resulted in the subsequent homicides of all but one, missing child—just tell us where Emily is.”</p>
<p>                “I didn’t kill no kids, <em>Goddammit</em>!” Randall was infuriated as his words came out stutter addled and thick with spittle. “You bitches can’t hold me here!”</p>
<p>                “The evidence in your van is grounds enough for keeping you for just long enough to finish running it with our lab to find out what you’ve been up to,” Elora moved away from the table, purposely putting a little distance between herself and Randall. “Did they cry, Randall? Did you like it when they cried?”</p>
<p>                “You <em>fucking</em> bitch,” Randall caught everyone in the room off-guard, aside from Elora, as he stood, knocked over his chair, and invaded her personal space. “I said I didn’t kill no kids but I did teach that little brat another lesson when she told me <em>no</em> for the <em>second time</em>! Is that what you wanted to hear? That I almost undid every bit of recovery from her pretty jaw being wired shut? Is it?”</p>
<p>                Elora was a little stunned as her backside hit the wall but she stood tall, unrattled. “That was unexpected.”</p>
<p>                Anderson snagged his client by the elbow and gave him a firm yank away from Elora as her grin appeared in a matter of seconds. “One of you needs to go get your Captain and ADA Carisi so we can all have a little discussion about a deal.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, no, I think we’re beyond that now,” Amanda had her cuffs in hand, stunned at the crazy direction that their interrogation had just gone. “Your client may not be guilty of kidnapping that little girl but he’s going back to jail, Anderson.”</p>
<p>                “What the hell just happened here?” One of the field officers peeked their heads into the interrogation room, concern written on his face as he made eye contact with Elora while Amanda cuffed Randall.</p>
<p>                “Go let the Captain and Carisi know that we have another development,” Elora nodded toward the door.</p>
<p>                It may have been a confession but it wasn’t the one they needed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>4:00 PM</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “You should’ve interrupted,” Olivia closed the door, leaving Donald and his attorney, Killian Gray, to stew alone in the significantly darker interrogation room. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>                “We called Hadid and she’s fast-tracking another warrant for Randall Parker,” Amanda knew that look from Liv as both eyebrows went straight up and her lip went between her teeth. “It fell in our laps, Liv.”</p>
<p>                “That sounds like it could be twisted into the implication of a coerced confession,” Carisi looked directly at Elora and rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>                “You haven’t known me for a whole twenty-four hours and you’re already trying to insinuate something about me?” Elora scoffed as she crossed her arms, leaning against the glass. “This is why no one calls you Sonny.”</p>
<p>                “I’m supposed to be the Captain, not the Warden, now, explain to me what just happened?” Olivia wasn’t sure of which one she should be staring down as she darted her eyes between Amanda and Elora, burning a hole through both of them as the disgruntled movement of Killian and his client became awkward pacing. “Why do we need to book Randall?”</p>
<p>                “We were both pressing him about the blood in the van and he was getting a little squirrely about his answers so I let Caruso just take the lead on the line of questioning,” Amanda ran a couple of fingers through her hair as she tugged the rubber band loose to start over from scratch. “He blurted it out.”</p>
<p>                “Wait, so he confessed to it? Just like that?” Carisi furrowed his brows and awkwardly shifted his feet, taking that rigid, pensive stance that emphasized his confusion.</p>
<p>                “Not to what you’re hoping he confessed to,” Elora could feel the first stage of a caffeine crash induced headache hit her behind the eyes as she took a deep breath, searching for the words. “DNA came back on the blood from his van and it wasn’t a match for any of the prior victims or Emily but it did match an individual’s genetic material already in the system.”</p>
<p>                “His step-daughter,” Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose and watched the echoed nod from both of her detectives.</p>
<p>                “He violated his parole and has been raping her, repeatedly, for the past six months,” Amanda’s shoulders slumped as the details of the remainder of his confession continued to ring in her ears. “The blood was from her.”</p>
<p>                “I’ve already called to have the step-daughter and her mother come in to find out if this was ever discussed beyond the confines of the van,” Elora pushed her cell phone back into her pocket, satisfaction waning as she glanced at the floor. “It only gets one victim out of the wind but it does nothing for Emily.”</p>
<p>                “It does more than you think,” Oliva made a gesture with her index and went around the corner, in the direction of the interrogation room where Fin and Kat were still questioning Seth while his attorney, Lindsay Becker, kept a watchful eye on both of them. “They’re not getting anywhere with him and I know that both of them are losing patience with him. Carisi, what’s with his attorney? I’ve never seen her before.”</p>
<p>                “Becker typically fights for the good guys but she overheard Killian boasting at One Police Plaza that he had two clients facing potential charges from SVU and one of them was a little daft. He was preparing to sandbag the one with a screw loose,” Carisi crossed his arms and met a knowing glance from Elora as he let out a puff of air. “You know she’s only in it for some notoriety, right?”</p>
<p>                “Or she felt bad for the guy,” Elora was stuck on Seth’s innocence and it was coming across as though her heart was bleeding as she met a waiting stare from her Captain. “I know it makes me look weak or something but I don’t think he’s good for this, Olivia.”</p>
<p>                “It’s not that common for a prosecutor to swap sides to defend a guy that could be a potential child rapist and killer,” Amanda pursed her lips together and pressed her shoulders against the pane, biting the tip of her tongue as she searched for the words without betraying her ideals. “Maybe there’s something to Elora’s theory?”</p>
<p>                Olivia took a step forward and flicked the speaker on, listening in on the interrogation as Seth’s voice took on different speed and tone as he stuttered. He was in a full panic as Fin rephrased the question, the sweat dripping down his hairline as though they had completely shut the air off in the room. They’d seen him worrying before but the emotional distress was at a different level. His eyes zoned out at the reflection, staring through it as though he could see the other side. Elora watched as his nervous tick became a fevered, unwavering bounce.</p>
<p>                His heel continuously tapped against the floor like the frightened heartbeat of a rabbit.</p>
<p>                “I-I don’t understand the question, Sergeant Tutuola,” Seth’s shoulders were turning inward, his palms against his chest to contort to the smallest size regardless of how physically imposing he actually was. “I don’t know anyone named Emily. You keep saying that I do, but I don’t...I don’t.”</p>
<p>                “Go,” Olivia turned her torso, her hand tapping on the glass as the severity of the situation crept in. “Before we lose control completely.”</p>
<p>                Elora waited until Fin craned his neck toward the door before entering, a tentative expression gracing her face as she caught a sideways glance from Kat as she leaned against the handle. “Seth, buddy…I know we keep asking you about Emily but I want to know something else, okay?”</p>
<p>                Seth looked up from his lap and a light in his eyes flickered as he made eye contact with her, the familiarity comforting the anxiety as the frantic rapping against the floor began to slow to gentle drumming. “Detective Caruso…okay…I’ll try. I’ll…I’ll try.”</p>
<p>                “See, we’ve been asking you the wrong questions, I think. I need your help,” Elora approached and shifted three photographs in front of him; the open toolbox where the socks were found, the back of the open van, and a photograph of Emily. “The little girl is Emily, Seth, and her mommy misses her so much. I know you wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her, right?”</p>
<p>                “Right,” Seth sat up straight, his eyes moving between each image, studying them.</p>
<p>                “Have you seen her before?” Elora lifted the photo and moved it across the top of the photo of the van, her voice soft, sweet, elegant. “Think very hard for me, buddy…”</p>
<p>                Seth was rocking in his seat as his eyes glassed over, searching for the words as they became a whisper. “…Elora, he’ll be mad at me.”</p>
<p>                Elora had her suspicions and so did Kat and Fin as they exchanged glances from one another before looking toward the two-way glass. If there ever was a personification of fear, it was sitting in front of them and was the size of an above-average linebacker. Elora swallowed hard and knelt, closing her hand across Seth’s shaking digits while Becker became increasingly concerned for her client. Seth was sobbing in silence and the reality was setting in that they all knew why. He just had to say it out loud. It was the only way to set things right.</p>
<p>                “Who will be mad, Seth?” Elora asked the question hanging in the air as she knelt, pressed her elbows against the table, and regained a semblance of eye contact.</p>
<p>                Seth’s mouth hung on the soundless utterance and sucked in a breath as the consternation swelled and his nostrils flared. “I can’t—He made me promise not to tell. I screw up everything. I can’t screw up again.”</p>
<p>                “You know we don’t have to tell <em>him</em> that you’re the one that gave the information, Seth,” Elora considered negotiating with Seth to be similar to what it would be like to bargain with a small child as she hid a coy smile and stayed crouched at the end of the table. “It would be a secret that he doesn’t have to know about.”</p>
<p>                “I’m going to need certain assurances for my client’s safety if I am going to encourage any further giving of information, Sergeant Tutuola,” Becker’s perfectly curled, blond locks were shimmering as she tucked her hair behind her ears and made eye contact with Fin.</p>
<p>                Fin stood and gestured for her to follow, the tone in his voice low as she crossed her arms, reluctantly joining him just feet away. “Your client might not give you the chance to barter for assurances—he’s been less than forthcoming with every one of this team except for Elle and I’m not about to stop her progress. I can promise that whoever he’s protecting won’t find out from us that he’s the one who opened his mouth.”</p>
<p>                Kat was silent, absorbing the information as it unfolded, her eyes opened wide as though she were face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. She was still a little green despite the experience she’d already had out in the field and Elora’s style was different. It was foreign. It was very in-your-face and nothing had been quite that raw to witness. The vastness of Elora’s experience was becoming real; to the point that she was seeing the layers of each precinct’s effect on her. It was fascinating and rested carefully at the line of startling. She didn’t like to be that vulnerable with a suspect.</p>
<p>                No one other than Olivia had worn their emotions directly on their sleeve and Kat was witnessing Elora doing something strikingly similar in front of Seth.</p>
<p>                “You know who he’s protecting,” Becker had a piercing stare and the pools of sapphire and steel to drive her point home as she glanced at her client. “It’s why I boosted him from that <em>rat bastard</em> Killian.”</p>
<p>                “Let her do her job, then,” Fin waited, staying on his feet while Becker circled the table nervously.</p>
<p>                “Seth, I need your help…<em>she</em> needs your help. I know you understand that,” Elora pushed the photo of Emily closer to Seth and watched as his bottom lip quivered. “You don’t have to be afraid of your brother anymore.”</p>
<p>                He inhaled a deep, almost painful breath and nodded eagerly as he looked only at Elora. “I don’t want him to hurt <em>them</em> anymore. I don’t want him to hurt <em>me</em> anymore. Donny said I had to be quiet but I knew…I knew he was bad. He’s always been bad.”</p>
<p>                “What does that mean?” Kat’s silent streak ended with a single question as her mouth opened, the words set off the cataclysm as the tapping began again.</p>
<p>                “Them?” Elora didn’t flinch as Seth began to rock in his seat, the childlike state deepening before her very eyes. “Seth, I need you to tell me the truth when I ask this question…Did Donald bring this little girl into your home at any point? Or was one of the other little girls?”</p>
<p>                Kat pulled the photos of Daniela Vega, Sara Edwards, Maria Lewis, and Madeline King from the file and slid them across the table. Elora placed each one in front of Seth and his blinking became more rapid as his breaths began to thread. It was difficult to witness but they knew they were getting at the heart of the issue as Seth dragged the tips of his fingers across the table below the photos. He repeated the motion from right to left before going left to right. It was compulsively repetitive and part of a coping mechanism.</p>
<p>                “All of them except for her,” Seth lingered on Emily’s photo as he wiped his tears with his free hand. “Donny punched me in the ribs when he caught me talking to her so he took her somewhere else…”</p>
<p>                Bingo. They’d made the pivotal turn and broke through the plaster. Elora made eye contact with Fin just before he went to the door, the weight of the revelation swirling through the air. Kat nodded as she rose, briefly giving an affirming look in Elora’s direction. Seth buried his head in his hands as the sobs went uncontrolled. It was cathartic. He’d been holding them back for a lot longer than a few months.</p>
<p>                “It’s going to be okay, Seth. Everything is going to be okay,” Elora squeezed her hand around his shoulder as she stood, letting him take the time to be emotional as Becker took a seat beside him.</p>
<p>                For the first time, Elora didn’t know if she had just told someone a lie to save their soul or to save her own.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes by:<br/>Lawrence LaShan<br/>Unknown</p>
<p>Please note, this is the second to last chapter in an ONGOING SERIES. There will be more in the series. The second case is underway. Yes, it's going to be interesting. I am so looking forward to continuing it with you.</p>
<p>All comments are appreciated and welcomed. Thank you for the endless support.</p>
<p>To Cate, thank you for the help as always. You are a star.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Resolute</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A confession with a shocking twist, a second arrest, a little girl still in limbo, and a deserted construction site that should have been condemned. It’s quiet…too quiet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A weak foundation destroys the work.” – Proverbs</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mazel Tov is good luck in Yiddish</p>
<p>res·o·lute /ˈrezəˌl(y)o͞ot/<br/>adjective<br/>1.	admirably purposeful, determined, and unwavering.<br/>"she was resolute and unswerving"</p>
<p>Warning: Chapters may contain descriptions of violence, sexual assault, assault on a minor, and the death associated; depictions are not meant to trigger or otherwise damage readers. Proceed with caution.</p>
<p>Secondary Warning: Epilogue could be triggering due to the implication of a sexual assault.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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<p>
  <em>Fear is a phoenix.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You can watch it burn a thousand times</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And still it will return.</em>
</p>
<p>-Leigh Bardugo</p>
<p> </p>
<p>5:00 PM</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “My client can assist with this as long as you can keep that promise that his brother isn’t able to put his hands on him again,” Becker pulled the door shut to the interrogation room where Seth was still sitting quietly, his bloodshot eyes staring at the pane of glass ahead. “I’ve seen a lot of trauma in the last seven years and he might be a lot of things but aiding in the degradation and subsequent murders of multiple children isn’t something I could see him doing.”</p>
<p>                “We’ve still got Donald Wallace roasting in another room,” Olivia held a breath for a moment as she chose her words carefully. “You know Killian isn’t going to let him speak and he’s been unwilling to divulge much of anything right straight along since he got here.”</p>
<p>                “He’s not going to have much of a choice,” Amanda held a tablet and stylus out, the soft, bluish glow illuminating the space as Olivia held it. “DNA came back on the blood in Donald’s van. Seven DNA contributors.”</p>
<p>                “Seven?” Fin was waiting on the other shoe to drop as Olivia’s eyes scanned and scrolled down the digital print. “How?”</p>
<p>                “Seminal fluids and blood from Donald Wallace, which was expected, blood and urine from all five of our victims but this is the part that I’m hung up on…” Olivia pivoted her torso, her shocked stare piercing a hole through Elora as she paused for a long moment. “Blood and other fluids from Seth Wallace.”</p>
<p>                “That’s not entirely a shock, though,” Elora was rationalizing it but Olivia’s expression remained unchanged. “Seth indicated that Donald frequently beats on him—finding his blood in that van isn’t out of the realm of possibility.”</p>
<p>                “That’s not what I’m trying to say, Elora,” Olivia pressed her lips together and lowered her voice, flexing her jaw as a pang of nerve energy coursed through her. “Seth’s blood had a high concentration level—on unwashed towels that were hidden in a toolbox. His blood and Donald’s semen were the only samples on the towels.”</p>
<p>                “Wait, wait, wait, wait!” Elora held up a hand as the murmur of Seth’s voice began to carry through the speaker in bits and pieces of frenetic bursts as she hushed everyone for a moment. “...Overthinking it, it’s not as complicated as it looks or sounds and I don’t know why it wasn’t glaring from the start. Give me three minutes alone with him, Olivia. Three minutes.”</p>
<p>                “Becker?” Olivia turned her head and looked at the stoic attorney as she rubbed her thumb against her chin.</p>
<p>                “If I catch the slightest hint of you implicating him for this, all of you are done,” Becker would’ve put up more of a fight but she knew it might’ve been the only way to fully exonerate her client as Elora reached for the door handle.</p>
<p>                “Elora,” Olivia bit down on her lip and lowered her voice as she stepped closer to the door, notching the volume up on the box. “Be careful in there. The wrong series of buttons could backfire on us.”</p>
<p>                “You might want to worry more about him than me,” Elora pushed the door open and shuffled her feet against the floor as she pushed it closed. “You okay over there, buddy?”</p>
<p>                “Scared,” Seth said softly and traced an indecipherable pattern on the table, his eyes welling up. “Always scared. It’s why I’m weak. Donny says I’m weak.”</p>
<p>                “You’re not weak. You’ve been so strong and there’s nothing left here to be afraid of while I’m in the room. Why are you still scared?” Elora slid a chair close to him and sat down, angling the photographs away from him just a little. “You’ve been so brave already…”</p>
<p>                “I’m never brave,” Seth was shrinking in his chair, his shoulders folding inward as he scooted down just a little. “I ruin everything. I’m a menace. I mess it all up and complicate everything—that’s why Donny told me to stop talking to the girls. I just wanted them to stop crying. It’s always worse when they cry. He leaves the bindings too tight—you can’t feel your fingers. Your hands turn colors and everything gets cold.”</p>
<p>                “Seth, I need you to tell me what you mean by that. I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Elora picked up Emily’s photo and held it up, encouraging his eyes to follow it higher as she raised it. “Did you ever put your hands on her? Did you hurt her?”</p>
<p>                “No, no, no, no…” Seth was almost hyperventilating as Elora folded her hand over the top of his, leveling him out with immediacy. “Donny made me promise that I’d never tell anyone. I promised, Elora, I promised. I promised not to. I can’t break my promise.”</p>
<p>                Elora knew where this had to go as she put the photo down, the anger building over even having to snap the puzzle pieces back into place. “Seth, did your brother hurt you in the same way that he hurt those little girls?”</p>
<p>                “I can’t…” Seth was trailing off, his eyes caught on his own reflection in the glass.</p>
<p>                “Did you try to stop him from doing to them what he did to you?” Elora swallowed hard and dug a little deeper even as his digits trembled against the top of the table.</p>
<p>                Seth had stray tears betraying the silence as he jerked his hands away from the table and slipped them between his knees, tugging his sleeves down to the tips of his fingers. He went pale as the rocking continued while his bottom lip quivered. Elora let go of Emily’s photo and pushed the frazzled wisps of hair out of her face before reaching for the cuff near his thumbs. He didn’t fight it as she pulled the material up past his wrist, revealing the scars where something had rubbed his skin raw repeatedly, healed over, and was re-irritated. The marks were old, jagged, and crept dangerously close to the radial artery, weaving more than a tale as his bones twitched.</p>
<p>                Elora’s stomach dropped as he found similar markings on his other wrist, a hint of sorrow in her voice, “You don’t have to keep his secret any longer.”</p>
<p>                His tears flowed and the remaining anchor in the room was Elora as he looked up at the ceiling, letting it out in a single phrase. “I was seven-years-old…it was only me for so long. I didn’t know what I did wrong, Elora.”</p>
<p>                “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Elora could already hear the tapping against the glass as she stood up and met Olivia at the door.</p>
<p>                “Then why did he keep doing it?” Seth wiped his face and let the first bit of clarity spring free as he made eye contact with Elora. “I tried to save all of them. I tried.”</p>
<p>                “There’s still time,” Elora dragged Emily’s photo toward him, placing it between his thumbs in the open gap, her little face framed around his calloused, worn hands. “She’s still out there.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t know how but I’ll try,” Seth nodded and lifted his chin, a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he held the photo while the tears dried. “Just don’t let him hurt me again.”</p>
<p>                “Every moment that Donald has had control of this situation ends now,” Olivia was laconic but it was the truth and now, they had their leverage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Outside Interrogation Three</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “No one is drawing the short end on this interrogation,” Olivia ran a couple of fingers through her hair and rubbed her lips together as she reached for the door handle. “All of you look a little blood-thirsty and I’m less likely to knock anyone over in there.”</p>
<p>                “That last part was directed at me,” Elora crossed her arms and shrugged her shoulders, a satisfied expression on her face as she leaned against the opposite wall. “I make no apologies for knocking over Randall. That was deserved.”</p>
<p>                “Little loose cannon,” Fin shook his head and rolled his eyes as Olivia reached for the door handle.</p>
<p>                “Who you callin’ little?” Elora scoffed and heard a loud exhale from Olivia as she spun around, jiggling her empty cup at Fin in reference to his own. “Could be interesting, though...Watching the boss psychologically break a guy down is an appealing topic.”</p>
<p>                “Brown noser,” Fin teased as he paced the floor in front of Elora, capturing a shred of Olivia’s attention as the two were still exchanging sarcastic blows.</p>
<p>                “Whatever,” Elora retorted and fluttered her lashes to feign offense.</p>
<p>                “<em>Enough</em>, I’ve got a few things on my mind that might help aid in that endeavor,” Olivia pushed the door open and glanced at Killian first. “Sorry about the wait, gentlemen.”</p>
<p>                “Don’t act like it wasn’t one-hundred percent intentional, Captain,” Killian rolled his eyes and wiped the perspiration from his forehead as she rounded the table and sat down across from them.</p>
<p>                “It’s nothing personal, Killian,” Olivia forced a smile and opened the file, keeping her eyes on the paperwork in front of her, much to Donald’s irritation. “We all know why we’re here.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, I must be really special to have the attention of Captain Olivia Benson instead of one of her underlings,” Donald Wallace had an unnecessary grin on his face as he sat with his back to the door, slouching in the chair. “Killian, did you know you’re representing the VIP that’s been jammed up all day by Special Victims? The NYPD must be desperate to put butts in the seats.”</p>
<p>                “Donald, I know you think it’s in your purview to speak but I’m advising you to wait for my approval on all questions before you go opening your mouth again,” Killian was hot under the collar and irritated already after spending most of his day playing musical chairs within the walls of the precinct. “This isn’t the time.”</p>
<p>                “There won’t be a lot of question dodging, here, and I’ll just jump right to the point,” Olivia couldn’t have been more done with games and the men that play them as her pointed remark was aimed squarely at Donald from behind her deep mahogany irises. “We know all about your little operation, Donald, and you’re finished.”</p>
<p>                “Wait—”</p>
<p>                “You’re bluffing,” Donald held up his hand as Killian began to speak, cutting him off before his sentence could form. “You’ve got nothing more than the incoherent ramblings of a man-child, Captain…that is who you’re getting your information from, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>                “You’re secretly hoping that it’s all hearsay, aren’t you, Donald?” Olivia opened a file and turned it toward them, a perfectly formed grin on her face as she unstacked the highlighted sections. “DNA doesn’t make up its own narrative. It tells the only story that matters and that’s the truth. Your days of sneaking up behind little girls and taking them from their front yards, parks, or in front of schools are over…”</p>
<p>                “Come on, Captain Benson, where’s your ADA?” Killian was scrambling as Donald’s eyes flitted from section to section, whizzing through the details but never fully absorbing them. “Certainly, there is an opportunity here to discuss a deal?”</p>
<p>                “The growing list of potential charges is looking a little grim, Killian,” Olivia was a little more smug than usual as she elevated a brow and reached for the photographs underneath the paperwork, her tone sharply climbing. “Where is Emily, Donald? We know you keep them for three days before you kill them and you’ve had her for nearly twelve hours. You barely even had a chance to exact a plan on her.”</p>
<p>                “Don’t answer that, Donald,” Killian was smug and it was intensifying despite the stakes that were stacked against his client.</p>
<p>                “Think hard before you advise that your client uphold a code of silence,” Olivia wasn’t playing games nor was she dealing a hand of winning cards for her opponent as she folded her fingers across the cool table. “We already know he’s guilty. We just want to know what he did with the girl. It’s up to the District Attorney what happens after that.”</p>
<p>                “You’ve got nothing but bunk and baseless accusations, Captain,” Killian shook his head and held up his hand again as Donald’s lips started moving.</p>
<p>                “I could just sign the documentation to have your client sent straight to The Tombs where he’ll sit in lockup for the next seventy-two hours while a newly issued warrant is served on his businesses and every job site opened or closed in the past six to eight weeks,” Olivia was good at pressure and enjoyed the thrill of watching the perp and their counsel squirm as she leaned back, crossing her arms. “Gen pop is awfully rough on a guy in for crimes against children. You know it and I know it.”</p>
<p>                “Watching her do this is like having a seminar on interrogation, you know that, right?” Elora smirked and made eye contact with Fin in the dim space of the hall as she came back from the front with a cup of coffee for him. “I feel like we’ve gone through an entire pot of coffee each today.”</p>
<p>                “Day in the life. The kind of filth we’ve gone toe-to-toe with would make the average person’s toes curl,” Fin took a healthy swig of the coffee as a loud, shrill series of shouting carried down the hallway. “What in the hell is that?”</p>
<p>                “That…sounds like Donald’s wife,” Elora flipped the sound to mute and followed Fin toward the source of the commotion where Amanda and Kat were doing their best to talk her down.</p>
<p>                “I want to talk to the Captain, right now!” She shoved and tugged against their uniformed backup; her face beat red as she shouted in the squad room.</p>
<p>                “Mrs. Wallace, I’m Sergeant Fin Tutuola, Captain Benson is a little busy but we can help you with whatever you need,” Fin dropped the nearly full cup of coffee into the trash, negotiating with her as she stopped screaming and stared him down.</p>
<p>                “It’s Susan, please don’t use <em>that</em> last name,” She was a little hysterical but Fin’s cool, calm exterior had her instantly brought down four notches as she stopped fighting with Tamin, Rollins, and the uniformed backup that could hear her from around the corner. “I wanted to believe him. I wanted to think he would never harm anyone but I found something and I can’t put my own child at risk for someone I don’t even know.”</p>
<p>                “Guys, let her go,” Fin gestured for her to sit down at a nearby desk, his continued, soothing tone assisting her in the deep breaths as she followed. “Susan, you’re going to have to start from the beginning so I know what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>                “Don did a real good job of hiding his real personality. He spent extended hours on job sites and would come home after being gone for hours to go straight to the shower. Wouldn’t even kiss me,” Susan took a breath and sank into a chair while Elora went to get her a glass of water, the timbre of her voice carrying just enough. “After he was asked to come down here earlier—I went down to the office and found three, locked curios.”</p>
<p>                “Susan, take a second,” Elora held the cup in front of her and tapped the side of it as she offered it. “You’re still hyperventilating.”</p>
<p>                “Thanks,” Susan nodded, sipping the water while Kat and Amanda silently observed in the background. “I pried those pieces of trash open and found something that made me know he’s just a predator.”</p>
<p>                “What was in the curios?” Kat gathered a tablet and started a digital inventory as Susan’s shaky hand reached into the deep pockets of her raincoat.</p>
<p>                “Records, mostly, of sites the business has never finished renovating, homes that were deemed a teardown after Donald had spent time in them,” Susan pulled a small, acrylic box with multiple flash drives inside from her front pocket as a grim expression passed over her face. “...And these.”</p>
<p>                Fin took the acrylic box and noticed it had at least six different flash drives inside and a few folded pieces of paper with illegible information scrawled on them. “You didn’t look at any of these, did you?”</p>
<p>                Susan sighed and covered her mouth as she caught her breath. “I made the mistake of putting one of them on the computer. I couldn’t believe what I saw when everything loaded. Photos of a little boy that I, swear to God, is his brother. I spent three hours vomiting.”</p>
<p>                Elora and Fin looked at each other, uncertain of whether they should tell her. The somber, readied tears over just imagining they were might’ve been enough for her to destroy any semblance of hope. They didn’t need to solidify the damage. They weren’t out to ruin her life entirely; they just needed to put her husband away and save a life in the process. Deep down, she must’ve already known it was true, even if it weren’t confirmed. The expression on her face was telling enough as she reached for a nearby tissue from a waiting box.</p>
<p>                “You did the right thing and we all know that this is tough, Susan,” Elora knelt in front of her, holding the edge of the armrest for balance as the photo of Emily flashed into her consciousness. “You mentioned some of the construction sites…are any of those still open?”</p>
<p>                “Several sites are still open,” Susan exhaled slowly and looked up at Fin as she wiped a stray tear, the strength leaping forward. “If you give me something to write with, I can give you a list.”</p>
<p>                “Put the ones that only Don has been to at the top,” Fin gathered a notepad and pen from his desk, offering it to her as the energy in the room changed. “The more detailed the address, the better.”</p>
<p>                “I’ll do better than that,” Susan adjusted the notepad in her lap and smiled for the first time. “I’ll list the ones that could be difficult to hear anything from the outside.”</p>
<p>               </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thursday, November 7<sup>th</sup> 2019, 3:45 AM</p>
<p>461 St. Mary’s Place, New York, NY</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                New York City’s endless re-construction seemed to be forever ongoing and the section of St. Mary’s Place was no exception as the unmarked cars pulled up along the unblocked sections of the curb. They had been careful not to blare the sirens or leave the strobes on as they moved along the glass fronts of the closed-off, red brick building. Scaffolding was everywhere and the creaking of metal and wood made the sound that much more intimidating as the lock was cut from the wooden door at the corner with the numbers 4-6-1 across the marker. As the door opened, the wind howled through and sent a shiver down their collective spines as they each made eye contact and elevated their weapons. It was all precautionary.</p>
<p>                By the book.</p>
<p>                “Zone two to Captain Benson, zone two to Captain Benson,” The walkie squelched at her hip.</p>
<p>                “This is Captain Benson…Go ahead, zone two,” Olivia held up her free hand as she waited for the final zone’s call before making a move on theirs.</p>
<p>                “Zone two, West 130 Street is clear, I repeat, zone two, West 130 Street, is clear,” The officer on the other end gave their signal from one of the other addresses, ending his call with a quick squelch blare.</p>
<p>                “Zones two, three, four, and five are all clear,” Amanda double checked her phone and shoved it back into a pocket, the drizzle coming down in a light spray from above. “Ours is the only zone left to check.”</p>
<p>                “All bets are off?” Kat could hear the gentle tapping of boots on the ground as Fin led the ground command around to the back of the building while the radio chatter softened. “We’ve cleared the Amsterdam Avenue address, West 110th, West 130th, and Riverside Drive. There’s nothing left.”</p>
<p>                “She’s got to be here or we’re all up shit creek. You cover me on the upper levels,” Olivia looked at Elora before turning toward Amanda and Kat, “I need you both to clear the main floor while Fin continues with the perimeter…got it?”</p>
<p>                “Ten-four, Captain,” Kat nodded, maneuvering slow and steady into the building, “Eyes on the left…clear.”</p>
<p>                Amanda followed, briefly nodding at Elora as she entered the building, the echoes of water dripping onto concrete and rebar quivering in every direction. It smelled of rust and mold, intermixed with sawdust and wet paint, every step quivering as the floor gave with each slide of the foot. The stuttered beams of light from each flashlight startled the established families of rats, scattering them left and right as their little, piercing, red eyes were caught in the beams of light. The excess motion was enough to startle Amanda as she nearly pulled the trigger as a rat skittered past her foot.</p>
<p>                “Jesus Christ,” Amanda growled and made a motion toward her foot as Kat looked back at her for a split second. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just a rat.”</p>
<p>                Olivia and Elora could hear the excess commotion as they turned a corner and hesitated as the squeaks and hisses of rats began to soften, waiting to move forward. The silent hand signals brought in the second wave of officers as Olivia led Elora toward a far wall and a flight of stairs, ushering Elora toward the second level. The interior of the restoration project looked as though it hadn’t been touched in months; skeletal in sections, thick brick walls across the back, and poorly aligned partitions of drywall with wide, uneven gauges in places. It was a mess and the smell was even more unsettling in the second level, where holes in the floor welcomed you around every corner, in blind sections.</p>
<p>                They were like waiting land mines.</p>
<p>                “Fuck,” Olivia took a step forward and aimlessly groped for the floor with the tips of her toes, grasping at anything as air whizzed past her ankle and shoved up her pant leg to her shin. “Shit.”</p>
<p>                Elora grasped her by the back of the vest and pulled her backward, away from the hole in the floor, and nearly tumbled through a gap in the wall at the same time. “You okay, Captain?”</p>
<p>                It wasn’t the most graceful or heroic maneuver that Elora could’ve made but it was enough to give pause as her new Captain’s elbow landed directly against the drop of her vest. The guttural groan passed from Elora’s lips as her backside landed against the floor and a dust cloud made breathing that much more difficult. The aged wood squeaked as Olivia got back to her feet and helped Elora up, coughing away the inhalants as the near-miss became highlighted by streaks of white dust down their slacks. Olivia let out a relieved sigh as she aimed her light at the floor while shaking the grime loose.</p>
<p>                “That could’ve sucked,” Olivia straightened out her vest, unfurled the ruffled bunch of her pant leg, and angled the flashlight at the massive crater in front of them, a weak smile on her face. “You know, there’s a hole right there…”</p>
<p>                “Donald certainly wasn’t doing any renovating in here, was he?” Elora holstered her weapon and shimmied across the beams, avoiding the hollow spot on the floor as she moved, wrinkling her nose as she sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”</p>
<p>                “Burnt flesh,” Olivia grimaced and followed the same path, shining her light into every room as she followed the smell. “And vomit.”</p>
<p>                “I’m getting the impression that Donald moved a lot of things around in here,” Elora found gaping holes along the wall where screws had been removed along with gaps in the dust that matched up with the size of a twin bed. “The floor in here is the only one that is strong enough to hold up a bed aside from the street level.”</p>
<p>                “He’s not exactly a weak man and moving around a little girl and a small bed in a place like this would be easy in the middle of the night,” Olivia let the beam of her flashlight linger over a section of scuff marks in a corner that had taken out chunks of the varnish. “He hasn’t been very graceful about it, either.”</p>
<p>                Elora went all the way to the end of the hall and came up empty after flashing her light through every room, every space. “Was there another level to this building?”</p>
<p>                “The stairs ended back there…” Olivia paced the same space and went into one of the rooms, listening for the flow of air as she moved to the second. “There’s an attic.”</p>
<p>                They were beyond the point of questioning the building’s structural integrity but the lack of a sound other than the rats and the drops of water on the floor had Olivia and Elora less willing to wait. Emily couldn’t wait any longer. Olivia went into the hall and aimed her light at the ceiling as the dust clouds became thick and billowy, obstructing vision just enough to up the stakes as she turned the corner and found the dislodged ceiling covering in a corner. The whirring of a palpable breeze passed through the room as they neared the space; the sound traveled up and along the edge of the ceiling. Olivia was a half of a step behind Elora, flashlights blazing across the stained surfaces as aspiration became determination with the sweeping motion of their hands against the drywall.</p>
<p>                “There’s got to be a fucking ladder for that,” Elora pried open a warped closet door and grimaced as the creaking echoed through the room. “Jesus Christ.”</p>
<p>                “Elora, it’s there,” Olivia strained her eyes as she stood in the doorway, the small, narrowed steps extending up and against a second attic opening. “This building is a cluster fuck.”</p>
<p>                Elora clicked her flashlight off and steadied herself at the edge of the wall, the child-sized stairs barely accommodating her entire shoe as she began the climb toward the ceiling. Elora could feel the weakness in the wood with every move she made as she pressed against the trap door and felt it give only an inch or two. Something was jammed up against it or laying on top of it. Elora glanced down at Olivia as she stood at the bottom with her light aimed beyond her face as she took a breath and rammed her shoulder into the panel, knocking it loose. The wood splintered and sent a cloud of drywall powder cascading down covering Elora and Olivia in the same breath.</p>
<p>                “Goddammit,”  Elora wiped her eyes and coughed, inhaling a whiff of a lot more than carpentry materials as burnt flesh and blood commingled with bodily fluids. “Olivia…oh, God.”</p>
<p>                “I know, I smell it, too,” Olivia appreciated her recruit’s tenacity in going first but the visible discomfort over that blend of smells was something she should have been able to prepare her for. “Try not to jostle the ceiling so much, we’ll need as much intact if something goes wrong.”</p>
<p>                “Jesus,” Elora was stuck on that if phrasing as she nodded, prying her way through with the use of her shoulders, sliding a thick weight off in the process as she opened a dark space with a shockingly high ceiling. “This is it. There’s no way it isn’t.”</p>
<p>                “I think it’s always been here. Do you see anything?” Olivia had her back against the wall, standing in such a way that no one could sneak up on them or ruin the finality of a thorough search. “Caruso?”</p>
<p>                “It’s dark and stuffy up here. There’s a shitload of windows, all of them are boarded up from the inside and covered in a thick foam…” Elora was swiveling along the squared-off entrance to the attic, shining her light along the walls until she paused and leaned forward. “Emily? Oh, honey, don’t move—I’m a police officer.”</p>
<p>                “Oh my God, Elora, is she alive?” Olivia could hear the change in Elora’s voice as her legs moved up and into the attic.</p>
<p>                “Barely,” Elora grunted as she moved across the beam, the whine of weak, old wood beneath her as she got closer.</p>
<p>                The muffled cry preceded the rattle of a chain and the lurch of the ceiling as Elora scooted across the support beam. Donald hadn’t done enough to make the beams capable of supporting weight for long and Emily had done more struggling since he’d left her. She made every moment count. The furthest wall of the attic had singed, murky colored wood from being kissed by fire, and the makeshift bed was far heavier than the cross beams could hold as it had tilted and shoved through the slats. Emily’s eyes were piercing into Elora’s soul as the elation and fear overwhelmed the exhausted, little body. Donald had left her for hours without water or food, with her mouth taped and hands restrained above her head.</p>
<p>                Part of Elora could’ve guessed Donald knew he was nearing the end of his journey as she saw little saw marks and missing screws along parts of the flooring like he had guaranteed Emily’s death without interference.</p>
<p>                “Oh, shit,” Elora felt the turn-of-the-century construction rock beneath her knees as she made visual contact with the exhausted, agonized little girl teetering on the mattress across the room. “Emily, my name’s Elora. I’m coming to get you, but I need you to hold as still as you can until I can get those chains off your wrists. Blink once if you can do that for me.”</p>
<p>                Emily’s blink was singular and slow, and the visible trembling was evident as Elora straddled the beams and moved a little closer, avoiding the weakest spots as they creaked beneath her. Elora blew a puff of air past her lips and grasped the edge of the brass footboard, the rusted springs howling as her fingers barely tapped one of the coils. Behind her, Olivia was on the walkie, alerting Amanda and Kat of the unstable ceiling and requesting a bus as she made her way up the ladder. Emily had been patient and docile as she kept her eyes locked on Elora; her little fingers and toes twitching involuntarily as she tucked her knees beneath of her backside.</p>
<p>                There was so much blood and Emily’s hair was caked with it.</p>
<p>                “How’s she doing?” Olivia couldn’t quite see her face as Elora’s torso blocked the majority of her face as she scooted forward.</p>
<p>                “Worse for the wear,” Elora glanced back at Olivia before making eye contact with Emily again, watching the stray tears as they streaked down her cheeks, leaving lines in the grime and bodily fluids. “I’m almost there, honey, you’re doing so good. Your mom is going to be so happy to see you, but you just have to keep holding as still as you can.”</p>
<p>                The muffled cries gained volume and the shakiness of the flooring beneath them was becoming hazardous as Elora’s fingers gripped one of the thicker boards. Her knees scraped over the exposed lath and plaster below the supports, in the dips and grooves where no insulation had been installed. Emily’s chin rested against her arm, her elbows swaying as her restraints rattled against the brass slats. Elora leaned forward and grazed the white and black mark on Emily’s knee with the tips of her fingers, making her flinch a little from the pain. The soot rubbed right off but the white, smudged material had become a hardened crust across her skin with cracks like broken glass.</p>
<p>                Candle wax.</p>
<p>                “Emily, did you put out the candle fire yourself?” Elora finally got close enough to grasp onto the metal fixture with her restraints attached while the entire attic floor lurched again.</p>
<p>                Emily’s eyes closed and opened, the affirmative more than apparent as the tears continued to fall. She had been so brave. Braver than she should’ve ever needed to be. It struck every chord in Elora’s heart as she braced her ankle against the broken edge of the bed to steady it while tugging on the rope and chain linking from the wall. The thought had already crossed Elora’s mind about the arduous task that CSU was going to face by coming up here but getting Emily out was the priority.</p>
<p>                She had been through enough.</p>
<p>                “Elora, be careful, you’re about to go right through the planks,” Olivia was at the opening, shining her light along the bottom of the bed as the dust started to cascade from the fixtures.</p>
<p>                “I’ve almost got it,” Elora grunted and felt the bolt snap free as it echoed through the void, blasting herself in the face with pieces of splintered wood. “Got it!”</p>
<p>                Emily’s arms slid forward and her delicate, tiny wrists fell against the heavily stained mattress and sheets. Elora didn’t hesitate as she popped the loops free and guided the overcome child into her arms. The elation didn’t go far enough as Elora felt the muted sobs against the curve of her neck while Emily clung to her, the last of her strength gathered just to dig her fingers into the top of her vest. The sound of Olivia’s voice requesting medical cut through the sound of cracking beams as Elora scooted toward the edge of the narrow opening. The radio squelch within the void was welcomed as Olivia perched at the bottom of the ladder and assisted Elora to the bottom.</p>
<p>                “I got you,” Olivia could hear Elora’s labored breaths as she touched a hand to the back of Emily’s head and assisted in the removal of the duct tape. “Both of you.”</p>
<p>                “Hold still for me, Sweetie,” Elora didn’t want to damage her skin as she lightly pulled on the loosened flap of tape, exposing half of her mouth in the process. “That’s it…you’re doing so good.”</p>
<p>                “I want my mommy,” Emily’s voice damn near brought both of them to their knees as she hid her face against Elora’s neck, desperate to hold on.</p>
<p>                “Let’s get you out of here,” Olivia nodded as the distant sound of sirens began to reverberate through the building.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>5:15 AM</p>
<p>Special Victims Unit, 16<sup>th</sup> Precinct</p>
<p>New York City, NY</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                It was still raining but the light was already streaming through the open blinds, casting a dulled arc across the floor. The team was fatigued but liberated. The sound of velcro coming apart preceded the unanimous groans as each one freed themselves from the confines of their vests. Sleep was calling to each of them in varying degrees but the sight of Emily in the arms of her mother made it that much more worth it as they watched Olivia in the doorway giving both of them the affirmation that it was real. Elora propped her backside against a table and leaned her head back until her neck popped then felt the warmth of fingers against her forearm.</p>
<p>                A smile crept across her lips as she turned her head to see Amanda next to her with a piping hot cup of tea steeping just for her.</p>
<p>                “You did good, <em>newbie</em>,” Amanda smirked and put the hot cup into Elora’s hand, the sincerity softly bubbling to the surface. “Real good.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, hey, that for me?” Elora was sloppy with a wink as the heat radiated against her palm as she coiled her fingers just enough to hold on. “Thanks, Rollins. So, does that mean I can stay? I was hoping to stay.”</p>
<p>                “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Amanda elbowed her and took the spot next to her, watching down the hall as Elora stared into the depths of her cup. “You saw a victim where I saw a perp.”</p>
<p>                “I just saw the tortured, Rollins, and I’m glad I did,” Elora was modest about it as she glanced over at Emily’s mother embracing Olivia, her little, previously battered frame between them. “Knowing that Seth endured years of that and only ever wanted to lessen their pain…he never grew up. Part of him died the day his teenage brother took away all of his innocence.”</p>
<p>                “Seems like you have a lot more than a box of belongings to unpack,” Amanda stood up straight as Fin and Kat were gathering their coats, the exhaustion evident. “You want company on your paperwork?”</p>
<p>                “You could say that,” Elora meandered toward her desk, staring at the untouched box of belongings that she’d picked up from the one-three as it came with a price as she popped her neck. “I mean, sure, but don’t you have little ones to go home to that might be missing you?”</p>
<p>                “My girls won’t be awake for a bit—I can go home to make breakfast after a little bit of work,” Amanda gathered her paperwork and sank into her chair, sighing into the air as Fin came up beside their desks. “Heading out, Sarge?”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, you two should, too,” Fin pulled his arm through the sleeve of his coat and peeked at his phone. “Sleeping until I get a call to come back sounds about right.”</p>
<p>                “Just gonna finish up a few things before I run off,” Elora started pulling the hair-tie from her hair as she nodded at the little stack in front of her. “See ya, Sarge.”</p>
<p>                “I’ll be right back, I need more paper,” Amanda nudged her as she scooted by.</p>
<p>                The moment alone was quietly contemplative as Elora pulled apart the top of the box, exposing the contents to the air as she pulled it onto her lap. Wyatt had carefully packed it, stacking the knickknacks and framed photos as though they belonged to him. It tugged at her heart as she thumbed over the photograph of her mother while the sweetly decorated frame of her nieces stood out like a sore thumb; classic versus the handmade. As she held the photographs, a decorative tin stood out in the bottom of the box that she didn’t recognize with a note taped to it with unique handwriting scrawled across the yellow paper square. Wyatt always had distinctive penmanship. She was so enthralled as she squinted to look that she hadn’t even noticed Olivia standing at the edge of the desks with an inquisitive look on her face.</p>
<p>                “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone stare at the inside of a box with quite so much hesitation before,” Olivia made her nearly leap out of her skin as she unfurled her vest and propped herself against Fin’s nearby desk. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were grappling with some emotions, Elora.”</p>
<p>                “Psychologically profiling me, Olivia? That’s an unfair move in chess,” Elora pulled the tin out of the box and set the empty cardboard on the floor, doing her best not to focus on the sweeping lettering of the slightly askew note. “My old partner packed up some of my things from the one-three and must’ve snuck this in here as a little joke. It’s probably nothing.”</p>
<p>                Olivia’s phone display lit up and the vibrating rattled as it touched the desk, her eyes barely glancing at it as she purposely granted her attention to Elora’s mystery tin. “It doesn’t seem like nothing or a joke.”</p>
<p>                “Do you need to get that?” Elora didn’t have a sister but this is what it must’ve felt like to have one prodding at you for details as she redirected to Olivia’s ringing phone in her hand.</p>
<p>                “It’s nothing I need to worry about right now,” Olivia let out an audible sigh and let the screen go dim as she watched the caller ID disappear. “It’s just someone I used to know.”</p>
<p>                “Ohhh, what are we looking at?” Amanda’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect, for both of them, as she came up behind Elora and read the note out loud without even thinking about it. “Trouble, I know how much you like the stuff—<em>Mazel Tov</em> at Special Victims.”</p>
<p>                “Huh, well that is right out of left field, then, isn’t it?” Elora blinked and pulled the note off of the box, revealing the specialty tea label in all of her choice flavors, awakening a smile that she couldn’t hide as the kind gesture washed over her a little more intensely than she’d bargained for. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t nothing…or a joke.”</p>
<p>                <em>And it wasn’t just someone that I used to know.</em></p>
<p>                Olivia nodded, pushing her feelings a little deeper as an echo of her past fluttered in her belly, reminding her of everything that she’d been ignoring for far too long. “Finish up on the paperwork later—go home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Epilogue</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sunday, November 10<sup>th</sup>, 2019, 12:15 AM</p>
<p>Old Town Bar, 45 East 18<sup>th</sup> Street, New York, NY</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “Barbara, another drink?” The soft, loose, golden curls cascaded around her oval face, the freckles barely visible beneath a light layer of makeup as she made full eye contact with her friend next to her, over-enunciating as she held up a glass.</p>
<p>                Barbara shook her head wildly, the intoxication level more than evident as she rolled her eyes, pushed a few bills across the bar, and signed her answer. It was an emphatic, somewhat sloppily signed “no thanks” with a little wink from the mousy brunette as she slid off the barstool. Her fingers slid through her frizzy locks, pulling them back to holster them in a clip. Her company frowned and rubbed her arm, giving her arm a gentle squeeze to recapture her attention as she, too, signed a solitary “love you” toward Barbara. Barbara smiled softly and adjusted the strap of her purse across her shoulder as she blew her a kiss.</p>
<p>                “Jules, are you done, girl?” The bartender winked in Barbara’s direction and looked over at her curly-haired friend as she started pilfering through her wallet.</p>
<p>                “Yeah, I think so. I’ll be good for once,” Jules put enough to pay for her drinks and generously tip him onto the bar, tapping Barbara on the arm to direct her toward the door. “Do you want me to walk you home?”</p>
<p>                “No, I’m okay,” Barbara’s voice was hollow and a little muddled as they both stepped out onto the street, her motor functions suffering as the chilly night air nipped at her bare legs.</p>
<p>                Jules buttoned her coat and shook her head, sighing into the atmosphere. “Call me when you get home, okay?”</p>
<p>                Barbara gave the okay status and watched her as she hailed a cab, lingering on the sidewalk as a wave of intoxication rolled through her body. The second-guessing of that third cocktail was coming back to kick her in the ass as she wandered down the paths, dodging cracks in the pavement, as the blaring of car horns became an echo. The smell of the alley and a radiating sewer grate nearly made her give pause as she sucked back a breath, swallowed hard, and glanced at the high windows above. New York and the acquired taste of the scents that could become more than vapor, settling in the curves of your nasal passages and on the tip of your tongue. It was a place that made the rough edges that much more razor-like and broke the less capable.</p>
<p>                The first corner waited, like a beacon, as the streetlamps began floating in and out of focus, blurring at the edges. The murmur of passing bodies went a little flatter, thumping against an already dulled instrument while Barbara struggled for the remnants of her equilibrium. As if life weren’t difficult enough, only processing a portion of background sound, just a couple of drinks compounded things considerably. Her balance had made an exit and her grace was all but gone in a blink of an eye. Her limbs were barely carrying her and the weaving from left to right was becoming more haphazard as she crossed the first of many streets.</p>
<p>
  <em>The night is my companion</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And solitude my guide</em>
</p>
<p>                The air bit at exposed skin and awakened the only sense that seemed to care as her nostrils flared. Cologne and cigar smoke. Strong, pungent, and too close for comfort. It hit her with just enough intensity to spike her adrenaline to spin around before stumbling toward the wet brick wall between two buildings. Barbara’s heart thudded into her throat as the slivers of light danced against the shadows until she couldn’t decipher anything but her movement and the foreign odor of masculinity as it surrounded her significantly smaller frame.</p>
<p>
  <em>Would I spend forever here</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And not be satisfied</em>
</p>
<p>                It wasn’t enough for it all to be just alcohol-fueled paranoia. Every second had to be real. The nightmare was unfolding as the world started to fall to pieces. Barbara moved mere inches to the right and collided with the immovable object, his breath down her neck. Barbara felt the vomit rising in her belly even as her hands managed to sign a singular word “don’t” with a little too much force. The sound rattled in the painfully quiet alley, drowning out the muffled sobs from her lungs as the first section of fabric was ripped apart.</p>
<p>                “Don’t scream.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The first case has concluded and this one has been a wild ride. Case number two has begun. I am three chapters deep (almost to the fourth) and it is coming along smoothly. I will do my best not to keep you hanging. </p>
<p>Quotes by: <br/>Proverbs<br/>Leigh Bardugo</p>
<p>As always, feedback is encouraged and necessary. I truly fell in love with these characters and hope you fell in love with Elora. She is my gift to the SVU universe. </p>
<p>There’s SO MUCH more to come.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This has been a huge undertaking (and risk) for me traveling into a new fandom, so I hope that it was well-received.</p><p>Please leave kudos and comments. I have been spending so much time on this and would love to know if everyone is ready for chapter two?</p><p>Quote by JRR Tolkien</p><p>Thank you to Monika and Cate for the endless help on the chapters.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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